Random babblings: Seasons roll on by

And I'm lost behind
Words I'll never find.
And I'm left behind,
As seasons roll on by...*

Still can't string together anything pithy, but feeling the urge to blog anyway.  In the mood for weirdness today... 

Watched The Libertine again last night.  The prelude to the film is only partially accurate:  I do find Wilmot repellent but, like Sade, still fascinating.  I wouldn't like him as a person, but greatly admire him as an idea.  Probably his best known (read: most notorious) work is A Ramble in St. James's Park (I'm not quoting it here, I don't want my blog reported.  Follow the link if you're curious).  What compelled the man to write such obscenity-filled bawdiness?  Especially considering that he could turn around and pen something like this:

After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,
The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.
Let the ambitious zealot lay aside
His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;
Let slavish souls lay by their fear
Nor be concerned which way nor where
After this life they shall be hurled.
Dead, we become the lumber of the world,
And to that mass of matter shall be swept
Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.
Devouring time swallows us whole.
Impartial death confounds body and soul.
For Hell and the foul fiend that rules
God's everlasting fiery jails
(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),
With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,
Are senseless stories, idle tales,
Dreams, whimsey's, and no more. 

Was it a desire to shock?  Or a compulsion to honesty so intense it became perverse?  As the character of Wilmot says in the film, "I don't mean to upset people, but I must speak my mind. For what's in my mind is far more interesting than what's outside my mind."  Though whether what was in his mind was as interesting to the rest of us is, of course, entirely subjective.
   

Spent a rainy January afternoon today wandering cemeteries outside of Baltimore, then reading Sherlock Holmes while chewing on mussels at Bertha's.  If you're a Holmes purist like I am, don't bother with the new Guy Ritchie/Robert Downey Jr. film unless you can convince yourself that it's not really Sherlock Holmes, it's just an action flick set in Victorian London with characters who solve crimes and share the same names as Conan Doyle's creations.  Just go back and re-read the stories.  Or, watch for the Granada TV series starring Jeremy Brett on public television.

Came home to follow a blog post from The Crow to Sam&Sara Motel and thence to She Is (best. URL. ever.).  Probably not the direction that was intended from the original post, but thoroughly appropriate to my mood.  The images at the latter two put me in mind of Maynard James Keenan and A Perfect Circle, which is fitting after being in Baltimore earlier.

A Perfect Circle - Weak And Powerless
Uploaded by PESfouine.

Driving from Ellicott City through Catonsville and into western B'more, there were so many images I was dying to stop and photograph. So much of the architecture in these neighborhoods indicates that their hey-day was during the early decades of the 20th century. There's so much terrific detail to so many of the rowhouses, individual homes, and storefronts that, though bordering on decrepit now, it's obvious that these areas were once beautiful, vibrant places to live. I get excited at the things I see driving by and want to stop and capture them, save images of them before it's too late, but these are not necessarily appropriate neighborhoods for me be wandering around with a camera. Sure, the idea of being mugged crosses my mind, but it's more a matter of consideration and delicacy. A friend with whom I rode the Gwynns Fall trail summed it up well when we stopped in one of the grittier neighborhoods to snap a shot: Traveling through these neighborhoods is not visiting the zoo.  She's very right.  I would not ever want to offend anyone who lives in such areas by "playing tourist". They live with the grime and crime and grim reality of it. Would my recording the sights that catch my eye in these areas be a compliment or an insult to them? There can be beauty in decay, but do you see it if you're stuck in it every day?

If I should be short on words
And long on things to say,
Could you crawl into my world
And take me worlds away?*

* Chris Cornell, Seasons

...to Incubus (It's done, Part II)

I've been considering lately what it is about Incubus that I've responded to so strongly since this past June. As mentioned before, I've known of the band for several years and never gave them a serious listen. I've written already (July 7, 2007 blog) about what made a couple of particular tunes jump out and grab my attention a few months ago, but as I started buying and listening to the rest of their catalog, I began to think about which elements of their music turned my initial reaction into a full-blown addiction. As with every other band with which I've been obsessed over the years, it comes down to the same two things: Words and a voice.

I don't know much about music theory and composition, but I do know enough to realize that all of the guys in this band are incredibly talented and creative. And the overall sound of the band is definitely the first thing that would get anyone's attention. As with T00l, there are musical interludes by Incubus that are very interesting &/or beautiful to listen to, and the live jams they go into in the middle of certain songs on stage are fascinating to both watch and hear. For me, though, Brandon Boyd is the undeniable focal point of Incubus.

So what is it about this guy? Might as well mention one thing right up front and get it out of the way: He's very pretty. Incubus often seems to be looked down upon due to this fact, as well as for the hordes of teenage girls who are apparently into the band for this reason alone. And I certainly can't deny that Brandon's got just about every physical quality that I find attractive and that I've created a folder on my computer of particularly appealing photos of him… But that's definitely not all there is to him.

First, there's the voice. If all you listen to are the singles that have taken over the airwaves and launched Incubus into top-of-the-charts status, it could be possible to label Brandon as some light-weight tenor who can wail but nothing more. But if you pick just one song and really listen, the quality of Boyd's voice quickly becomes obvious. First apparent is the clearness of his tone and enunciation. And there's an appealing youthfulness to the timbre of his voice, even on more recent songs released since he hit his 30's. Listening to a wider range of Incubus tunes, though, also reveals an impressive versatility. Early songs like Redefine and Vitamin, from 1997's S.C.I.E.N.C.E., are full of fast-paced rap and rougher, heavy metal-ish screaming. The same album, though, includes a complete 180 degree turnaround on Summer Romance, in which Boyd croons the verses in a smooth, warm, sensuous tone. And probably the best example of his control and power is in the song Nebula. The changes in tempo and style in this song demand incredibly precise diction and breath control. I've watched videos of live performances of this song on YouTube and Boyd doesn't stutter, skip a beat, or lose his breath at any point. That alone makes him a fairly amazing vocalist.

S.C.I.E.N.C.E. seems to be one of Incubus' most experimental albums in many ways, including vocally. Incubus and Boyd seemed to find a more defining sound beginning with Make Yourself, released in 1999. They continued to explore the boundaries of musical genres they associate with, though, while Boyd seemed to shift his focus to exploring the emotive range of his voice (which is a similar progression to that made by Chris Cornell in Soundgarden). On both Make Yourself and Morning View (2001), songs like Pardon Me, The Warmth, Just a Phase, 11:00am, and Aqueous Transmission showed that he has the ability to stir a variety of emotions through his singing. On A Crow Left of the Murder (2004), the song Zee Deveel indicated a return to some playful experimentation with different vocal sounds, while the rest of that album and the more recent Light Grenades (2006) confirm that Brandon's voice has become an instrument fully in complement to those played so well by the rest of the band members. The guy can hold his own against the best vocalists out there, including Chris Cornell in his prime, and deserves much more recognition than he gets for his talent.

But, like a pretty face, a fantastic voice alone isn't enough. Boyd apparently writes all of the lyrics for Incubus' songs and his words are what solidified my love of this band. As a bibliophile and writer-wanna-be, words are very important to me. As I mentioned in the July 7^th blog linked above, it was the imagery and emotions evoked in Wish You Were Here that first struck me. The opening verse alone shows what an evocative poet Boyd is:

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind
Pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy...happy

Very simple, yet the emotional state conveyed is intensely beautiful. But Brandon's word choice can also at times be quite, umm… idiosyncratic. The latest album, Light Grenades, is especially full of phrases such as "…if it's right to pick a fight, we're fingers in a sugar bowl" (Diamonds & Coal) and "You're 'bout as reliable as paper shoes in bad weather" (Paper Shoes) that on first listen come across as cliche'd sounding. Repeated listening, though, found me debating whether these lines really are trite or just very strangely clever. The song Here in My Room (from ACLOTM) is another example of the quirky contrasts in some of Boyd's lyrics. The guy writes ravishingly wistful love songs, yet this one jarred me the first few times I listened to it:

(Chorus)
If the world would fall apart
In a fiction worthy wind
I wouldn't change a thing now that you're here
Love is a verb here in my room

(Verse)
Pink tractor beam into your incision
Head spinning as free as dervishes whirl
I came here expecting nothing
So thank you for being that kind of girl

Okay, so that one's not so much a love song as it is a lust song, but it gets the point across. "Pink tractor beam"?? Every time I hear this song, I just shake my head at how cornball that line is, especially in contrast to the gorgeous imagery of whirling dervishes in the line immediately after it.

I can't speak for critics or fellow fans, but I personally have come to the conclusion that Boyd's quirky lyrics are the result of what seem to be some interesting personal eccentricities. Considering those eccentricities along with how he expresses himself musically and in interviews, though, leaves a strong impression of someone totally at ease with himself. In speaking about one of my other favorite song-writers, Chris Cornell (same July 7^th blog from above), I mentioned that what I always identified most with in Cornell's lyrics was the tortured quality he seemed to convey. While I accept certain aspects of my own character, I still battle with them on a continual basis, and I sense the same sort of struggle in the words of my favorite old Soundgarden songs. Maynard James Keenan is another lyricist I've discussed, who has also brought his internal struggles for growth to light in his songs. T00l's music has progressed over the years from bitter and angry to more contemplative and spiritual, and I've related strongly to that progression as I've followed my own difficult path. Still, though, some of my favorite T00l tunes are their darkest and most ugly. In contrast, there's nothing at all tortured about Brandon Boyd's lyrics. There's often intense frustration, even anger, and he sings more than once about the scars he bears, but underneath any negative expressions in his lyrics seem to lie a strong sense of self and a belief that things can be changed for the better. What resonates most strongly for me are Brandon's seemingly optimistic spirituality and his ability to find joy in the world in spite of the things that leave him confused or dismayed. I've come to a point in my life where I've realized that's how I want to live, and listening to Boyd's words has become an inspiration for me.

It could be easy to dismiss many of Brandon's lyrics as being so simple as to approach naiveté, but in a way that's the very beauty of them. Coming from years of listening to Soundgarden and T00l, I find the ingenuousness of his imagery and metaphors to be refreshing and very engaging. It's like the simplicity of Zen compared to the deep mysteries and ritual of Tibetan Buddhism. To have such words conveyed by that voice of his is a potent combination. I have a feeling it's going to be a blast to follow Boyd's continuing maturation as an artist.

Pantomime

In my fantasy
I'm a pantomime
I'll just move my hands and everyone sees what I mean
Words are too messy
And it's way past time
To hand in my mouth
Paint my face white, and try to reinvent the sea
One wave at a time
Speak without my voice
And see the world by candle light

I ain't afraid to let it out
I'm not afraid to take that fall
But I've found beyond all doubt
You say more by saying nothing at all

In my fantasy
No such thing as time
Minutes bleed into days of avant garde art, show
Me your heresy and I'll show you mine
We only speak in pantomimes on this carpet ride

I ain't afraid to let it out
I'm not afraid to take that fall
But I've found beyond all doubt
We say more by saying nothing at all

In my fantasy
You look good entwined
In my hair and skin and spit and sweat and spilled red wine
You're my deep secret
I'm your pantomime
I'll just move my hands
I promise you'll see what I mean

I'm jealous of Maynard

As part of the MJK kick I've been on lately, I recently sat and read the entire journal section at the website for his winery, Caduceus. Every page left me more and more wistful and envious. First of all, the website itself is freaking gorgeous. Second, (and I really hate to sound so teeny-bopperish) if I didn't have the impression that he'd totally drive me 'round the bend, I could probably really fall for a guy like MJK. His sense of humor, his thoughtfulness (as in, he thinks), his talent, the way he expresses himself... But, as is always the case when one pines after a celebrity, all of that is mere daydream. All I know of the guy, as he himself puts it in "Hooker With a Penis", is what he's sold me. So, any impression I do have of him is probably 90% projection.

What really got to me in reading the journal at Caduceus, though, is how fucking lucky he is to have found not just one passion in life (his music), but two. The way he describes working in the vineyard and developing his wines left me misty-eyed. Working the land, learning the patterns of the weather, watching the vines grow and the grapes mature... It just sounds so pure. He's found something rare in life, something many of us can only dream of because we don't have the opportunity, or the resources, or the balls to obtain it. Or, because we still just plain don't know what it is.

And the joy he seems to derive from life is evident in every word of that journal. The dude's had his share of pain in life (fans who've heard the story behind APC's "Judith" and T00l's "10,000 Days" have a vague idea of what his family's apparently been through), but he sounds like a little kid describing his experiences of the past few years. I especially got a kick out of the 12/20/06 entry (which he also posted at his MySpace Puscifer blog). It's so easy to assume that rock stars are rich, spoiled and blase', but Maynard's excitement over visiting the Great Pyramids of Egypt is touchingly refreshing.

MJK, man, if you ever read this... GIVE ME A JOB PICKING GRAPES!!!!

On anger and Audioslave

Last week was a crazy week. Work’s been nuts for months and I’ve been angry. As usual, though, there’s been little cause for the intensity of my emotional reactions. Nothing I was called upon to do last week was a true hardship. Duties not in my job description, perhaps, but that’s never stopped me from doing things before. I make a point of pitching in and doing what needs to be done. And no one who needed or expected me to do things for them last week did so maliciously. But the stuff I had to do has just further delayed projects that I’m responsible for that really do need to be completed. In the end (as I muttered under my breath all week), "It’s not f@#$king insulin, it’s just f@#$king jewelry!" Regardless of that fact, it’s time for me to try yet again to get a grip on my anger.

I’ve already written here about hatred. I can still honestly say that I can’t think of a single human being for whom I feel hatred. I’m to the point I can’t even say I "hate" eggplant. I just don’t like it and don’t want to eat it. Same thing for people. There are many I’d rather not spend time around, and many I’d much rather not see holding public office or leading a country, but hatred is one emotion I don’t feel towards any of them. Anger, though, is very different from hatred, and it’s my downfall.

Maynard James Keenan, bless his heart, summed it up for me in a video interview that I just recently found on YouTube: "Hate and anger are two completely separate energies. They might have a similar emotional charge to them, but anger is a much more constructive emotion than hate." I’m going to elaborate on that. While hate and anger are two separate energies, I think people confuse them because the two emotions are so often felt simultaneously. The one can easily lead to the other, and back again. And anger is only a constructive emotion when it’s detached from hatred, when it’s recognized and analyzed. If you don’t step back and take a dispassionate look at what’s behind your anger, then you don’t allow it to be constructive. So, that’s what I’m doing with this blog. I’m taking a step back from the anger I’ve felt these past weeks and months, looking at it, trying to understand where it comes from, and figuring out a way to de-fuse it before it gets set off in the future.

Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.
Justify denials and grip 'em to the lonesome end.
Clutch it like a cornerstone. Otherwise it all comes down.
Terrified of being wrong. Ultimatum prison cell.
(T00l, "The Grudge" Lateralus)

From what I can tell, most of my angry responses come from two sources: a martyr complex I inherited from my parents (both Martyrs Extraordinaire, though I don’t think either of them realizes it), and a shadow-side need to be smarter and better at things than everyone around me. The martyr complex clicks in pretty much whenever someone asks me to do something, or when I have to take on extra duties for any length of time. I’m certainly not the only person in the company busting butt on a daily basis to get stuff done, but I’d sure make you think I am. And those pesky little needs that I try to deny I have? They show up in a seriously offensive attitude of disdain that I often display when I’m asked a procedural or systems question. Combine those elements with a short temper and you’ll end up with an arrogant martyr stomping around breathing scorn through her nostrils like flames while muttering curses under her breath. Not pretty. And not very Buddhist.

What’s really a killer is that, very often, I realize how I’m behaving and I become embarrassed. To cover the embarrassment, I become even more angry, as well as resentful of whoever was witness to my initial over-reaction, and end up with one more brick in the wall between that person and me. Depending on my relationship with that person, I’m convinced that it could literally kill me to just stop and apologize for my behavior. With some people, I am able to do that. With others… I’m afraid to test it. What if the lightning strike from Heaven took out innocent bystanders around me?

And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things I've done
For all that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
(Chris Cornell, "Like A Stone" Audioslave)

As a some-time student of Yoga and Buddhism, of course I know exactly what I need to do to change these habitual reactions. I need to meditate and learn to practice compassion. But meditation’s so hard to make time for when there’s MySpace on the ‘net and first-season "CSI" episodes on cable tv. I’ve said many a time that I’m going to make the commitment. It’s like an addict saying that they’re going to quit, and actually, that’s a very apt way of putting it. A friend of mine once talked about quitting smoking. He said that he was actually afraid to quit because smoking was part of his identity. When he pictured himself, it was always with a cigarette. That’s my issue. I identify myself with my anger. Who would I be without it? Some namby-pamby, perky, Rachael Ray-clone? Ick. I’d rather burn in hell (which I may do anyway, but that’s beside the point).

Actually, I have thought about what sort of person I’d like to be without my anger and I have an image that I can comfortably identify with. It’s a person who can take a breath, recognize the anger, bear witness to it, and then choose a more appropriate response. No namby-pamby-ness to it. Just rational and balanced.


"Out of evil, much good has come to me. By keeping quiet, repressing nothing, remaining attentive, and by accepting reality— taking things as they are, and not as I wanted them to be —by doing all this, unusual knowledge has come to me, and unusual powers as well, such as I could never have imagined before. I always thought that when we accepted things they overpowered us in some way or other. This turns out not to be true at all, and it is only by accepting them that one can assume an attitude towards them. So now I intend to play the game of life, being receptive to whatever comes to me, good and bad, sun and shadow forever alternating, and in this way also accepting my own nature with its positive and negative sides. Thus everything becomes more alive to me. What a fool I was! How I tried to force everything to go according to the way I felt it ought to!"
From a letter to Jung from one of his former patients, discussing her acceptance of her shadow side. Quoted in Jung’s Map of the Soul (Murray Stein)

An article in the March 2007 issue of Shambala Sun was well-timed to assist me in this latest commitment to change through meditation practice. This particular statement from Buddhist teacher David Nichtern almost directly addresses some of my concerns:


"A revolutionary approach we can take is to see that the obstacles can actually become the stepping stones of the path. Our irritation, boredom, emotional upheavals, and wandering mind are the basis of the meditation practice itself. Without them, there is no meditation practice, just some kind of gooey, vague, and highly suspicious sense of well-being that lacks any real strength or foundation. We are just trying to pacify our mind in a superficial way, without working with ourselves as we really are— emotional, speedy, tired, anxious, spaced out, or whatever arises."

Bingo. No gooey-ness, instead strength and foundation. So far, so good. The article then goes on to discuss the specific practice of maitri, or loving-kindness. Now, I have trouble with my attempts to practice Buddhism whenever that term comes up. It’s just too gooey and namby-pamby for me. But, while "maitri means loving-kindness or unconditional friendliness… [it] is also a further step into overcoming and transforming our habitual patterns of selfishness and aggression." Dammit, they got me there. The only excuse I have left is the pull of those "CSI" episodes.

So, how to practice a maitri meditation? Beginning with the image of a loved one in your mind, direct the following wishes to that person: "May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be at ease." Next, extend those wishes to your self. Then, towards some person or persons to whom you feel neutral. Finally, direct those wishes towards some person or group of people that irritates you, or that you would consider an "enemy." Through this practice, one can "deliberately cultivate and direct… goodwill and positive intentions toward ourselves and others." Knowing myself, though, the computer and the tv will win out over any form of meditation.

Another method I’ve considered, a sort of shortcut, is something I remember from a television interview with Richard Gere. Gere is, of course, the most well-known "celebrity" Buddhist out there, and he’s apparently sincere. In this interview, he described a practice he uses that he described as "so simple, and at the same time, so profound." And it is. In any situation dealing with another person, whether positive or negative, merely think "I wish you peace" towards that person. When the barrista at Starbucks gets your order just right, look at him and think, "I wish you peace." When a woman with a cell phone growing from her ear cuts you off in traffic, look her way and think, "I wish you peace." I mean, really, do you (do I) honestly wish that she’d crash and her car burst into flames? No. Honestly, at that moment, you (I) really wish yourself (myself) peace, and the best way to achieve it for your (my) self is to wish it for her as well.

So, what excuses do I have left? I’ve found a self-image that’s genuine, that accepts the emotional response yet catches it and allows me to choose before I react. If the anger’s valid, then I can choose to use it as a vehicle to change whatever inspired that emotion. If it’s not valid, then I’ve found a quick’n’easy choice in the "I wish you peace" practice. And, one day, maybe I’ll even begin sitting my ass down on a cushion for some real meditation in order to more easily achieve the goal of becoming that new peace-wishing self-image. Any MySpace Friends out there want to give me some words of encouragement along the way?

On another note: Late last week, Chris Cornell announced that he’s leaving Audioslave. I was surprised, yet not surprised. Contrary to most of the reviews I’ve read of Audioslave’s albums, I felt the first album was the only one on which they gelled. The music and the lyrics on that album have a much more organic feel to them, I believe. They fit better than on the second and third albums. Most reviews seem to say the opposite, but I can think of two examples on the second album, in particular, that indicate otherwise. The song "Out of Exile", for which the second album is titled, begins with a martial, military-sounding drum riff. By the time the lyrics begin, though, it’s become a sappy, romantic love song to Chris Cornell’s new wife. How could the guys in ‘Slave think that those two elements went together? The first song on the album, "Your Time Has Come", is lyrically about various people Cornell has known who died senseless deaths while still young. In the third verse, he compares these deaths to the feeling he had seeing the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, DC, the "wall of names". While the song’s not about war, specifically, wouldn’t it have made a tad more sense to pair that military-sounding drum beat to those lyrics? That’s just one glaring example of the synchronicity that Audioslave seemed to lose between their first album and the last two. So, as much as I loved Audioslave, I can’t say I’m disappointed. And I can’t wait to see what Tom, Tim and Brad do next, whether it means reuniting with their old Rage Against the Machine pal, Zack de la Rocha, or not. They’re talented guys who craft some killer tunes.

As for Cornell, I really think that anyone he works with is gonna have to realize that they’re taking a back seat to Chris. Even if Chris himself tries to believe that he’s working as part of a greater whole, any musicians he collaborates with are going to end up being nothing but a vehicle for his talent and drive. While I haven’t been 100% thrilled with everything he’s done on the last two ‘Slave albums (Too many sappy love songs to the new wife. There’s one song in particular that wins the title of "First Chris Cornell Song I Just Won’t Listen To"), I’m still eager to hear his upcoming second solo album. The man’s been through so many transitions in his life that have been reflected in his music, it’s been fascinating to follow along and hear how he’s grown and evolved. At this point, I may not love everything he does, but the fascination’s still there, as well as the anticipation that at least some of his words will still move me.


Forget how soon
You become a fool for words when I speak
(Chris Cornell, "Flutter Girl" Euphoria Morning)

Tea with Maynard & Carl

Lunch at Teavolve in B'more. Sun-dried tomato quiche and a pot of Keemun hairpoint. Such a serene spot, and it was especially nice that Sunni, the proprietress, apparently recognized me when I walked in. After my first visit three weeks ago, I messaged her through MySpace to ask about the paint color in the shop's bathroom. As I was ordering today, I asked again and she knew exactly what I was talking about. Though I guess most patrons don't inquire about the decorating details of the 'loo…

I've been on a synchronous kick lately of Carl Jung and T00l. As I stated in my post about "Forty-six&2", that song got me into Jung in the first place, through the exploration of the Shadow archetype. On their next album, Lateralus, the song "Reflection" also steers me towards Jungian contemplations. (Man, I'm gettin' deep already tonight. Anyway…) Here are the lyrics:

I have come curiously close to the end, down
Beneath my self-indulgent pitiful hole,
Defeated, I concede and
Move closer
I may find comfort here
I may find peace within the emptiness
How pitiful
It's calling me...

And in my darkest moment, fetal and weeping
The moon tells me a secret - my confidant
As full and bright as I am
This light is not my own and
A million light reflections pass over me
Its source is bright and endless
She resuscitates the hopeless
Without her, we are lifeless satellites drifting

And as I pull my head out I am without one doubt
Don't wanna be down here feeding my narcissism.
I must crucify the ego before it's far too late
I pray the light lifts me out
Before I pine away.

So crucify the ego, before it's far too late
To leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical,
And you will come to find that we are all one mind
Capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable.
Just let the light touch you
And let the words spill through
And let them pass right through
Bringing out our hope and reason ...
before we pine away.

What I always wonder about this song is how Maynard defines the term "ego". When he sings that he must "crucify the ego", he seems to be using the standard connotation of ego as something that becomes inflated and takes over our better selves, as opposed to the Jungian interpretation, or even the Freudian, for that matter.

The book I've been working on lately is Jung's Map of the Soul, by Murray Stein. It's basically an introductory overview of Jung's theories regarding psyche, the ego, the self, persona/shadow, anima/us, complexes and consciousness. Stein starts out in his introduction comparing Jung's exploration and explanation of the psyche to a map, but the impression I keep getting is of a solar system or a universe, with just a bit of a skew. At the core of Jung's 'universe' is the ego: "It forms, as it were, the centre of the field of consciousness; and, in so far as this comprises the empirical personality, the ego is the subject of all personal acts of consciousness" (Jung). As the center of the 'universe' I keep picturing, the ego becomes not the Sun but, as in an antiquated view of our solar system, the Earth. It is "one's experience of oneself as a center of willing, desiring, reflecting and acting" (Stein). "The ego is a kind of mirror in which the psyche can see itself and can become aware. The degree to which a psychic content is taken up and reflected by the ego is the degree to which it can be said to belong to the realm of consciousness" (Stein). What's important to keep in mind with Jung's concept of ego is that it is not consciousness itself- consciousness is awareness, it contains the ego as well as the other complexes that revolve in the solar system of the psyche. Floating throughout this solar system are the various contents of consciousness- thoughts, memories, identity, fantasies, emotions, images and words. As the center of consciousness, the ego plays a large role in determining "which contents remain within the realm of consciousness and which ones drop away into the unconscious" (Stein). Here's where we begin to get into repression: the ego can choose to repress contents that it doesn't like or finds painful or incompatible with other contents (which leads to the development of the Shadow).

The ego can also be said to be the factor that sets us apart from other creatures, as well as from fellow human beings. It gives our conscious behavior focus and direction. It wills and acts, it represents our free will. Stein gives the very basic example of choosing to go to the post office as an action decided upon and directed by the ego, but it goes far beyond that. "Because we have an ego, we possess the freedom to make choices that may defy our instincts for self-preservation, propagation, and creativity… A strong ego is one that can obtain and move around in a deliberate way large amounts of conscious content. A weak ego cannot do very much of this kind of work and more easily succumbs to impulses and emotional reactions" (Stein).

The ego is developed via "what he [Jung] called 'collisions.' In other words, conflict, trouble, anguish, sorrow, suffering… As the ego tries to apply its will, it meets a certain measure of resistance from the environment, and if this collision is handled well the result will be the ego's growth… A moderate amount of conflict with the environment and some frustration are, therefore… the best conditions for ego growth" (Stein). A strong, well-developed ego is necessary to deal with the various complexes buried within us that throw our psyche out of balance at the touch of a button. "What the ego can do, if it is strong enough, is to contain some of the complex's energy within itself and to minimize emotional and physical outbursts" (Stein) that can occur when we are in the grip of a stimulated complex.

Similarly, Freud's definition of the ego implies a "a set of psychic functions such as reality-testing, defence, synthesis of information, intellectual functioning, and memory" (Wikipedia: Ego, super-ego, and id). It is "based on the reality principle. The ego understands that other people have needs and desires and that sometimes being impulsive or selfish can hurt us in the long run. Its job is to meet the needs of the id [the source of our most basic drives and impulses], while taking into consideration the reality of the situation" (AllPsych On-line: Freud's Structural and Topographical Models of Personality. On the flipside, while satisfying the desires of the id, the ego must take care to not upset the super-ego, which is the seat of our conscience and sense of morality. A weak ego, in the Freudian sense, would not be able to maintain this balance, leading to a personality either given to impulsive self-gratification or a rigid and judgmental morality. A strong ego is one that is able to balance these other aspects of the psyche to keep us centered and able to cope with reality.

Considering these definitions of ego, it seems that Maynard has it backwards. Rather than crucifying the ego, what is needed to escape that "self-indulgent pitiful hole" is to strengthen the ego, to develop it in order to prevent our descent into that hole in the first place.

Now, when I look at this song from a Buddhist perspective, I pick up on other elements of it with which to disagree (Sorry, MJK) First off, Maynard describes finding peace within emptiness as "pitiful." This is in contrast to the Buddhist idea of emptiness: "This concept, known as sunyata… is a key feature of Mahayana Buddhism. Such a term may appear, on the face of it, to have negative connotations, as though something is lacking. The opposite is in fact true. In Buddhism, the realization of emptiness equates to the experience of nibbana (nirvana) and therefore the cessation of suffering or dukkha" (About.com: Buddhism- Emptiness). As such, the concept of emptiness is a comforting one to Buddhists, and not a pitiful state to which one concedes in defeat.

"So crucify the ego, before it's far too late
To leave behind this place so negative and blind and cynical,
And you will come to find that we are all one mind
Capable of all that's imagined and all conceivable."

There is one line in which MJK sounds a tad Buddhist, in his assertion that "we are all one mind." The idea of interdependency is just as basic to the study of Buddhism as is that of emptiness. We are all one and inseparable. This lack of separation, this oneness, means that the self-indulgent narcissism Maynard sings of is a delusory state that leads to that painfully blind cynicism. Baaaaad Buddhist that I am, I have to admit that this idea actually kind of scares me sometimes. When I look at the people around me, the idea of being of one mind with some of them just freaks me out. I mean, I'm of "one mind" with that Larry-the-cable-guy clone in the pickup truck that just leered at me as he cut me off in traffic? I'm of "one mind" with the Ebonics-talking woman in the Sheetz restroom, screaming at her kids while carrying on a raucous conversation over the cellphone growing out of her ear? Forgive my blind, cynical and narcissistic ego here, but can't I just be of "one mind" with somebody like MJK and leave it at that?

And the Buddha's probably now rolling in whatever entity he's currently incarnated in… (Oh wait, I've used that joke already. It wasn't funny the first time, either.)

That'th all folkth!

Revision added 2/14/07:
Seriously, though, in spite of my nit-picking contradictions with MJK's use of certain terms, the overall message of this song is a valuable one. The idea that letting go of the narcissistic b.s. we all cling to will open us up to oneness and peace is very Buddhist, and certainly something to aspire towards. And the music to which these words are set is beautiful and haunting. On those rare occassions that I make an effort, I've found this a wonderful song to meditate to. (Note to self: Make that effort a little more frequently!!)

Step into the shadow, forty-six+2 are just ahead of me...

This is the song that got me into T00l, and then subsequently got me into Jung. I've read various things around the 'net about the 46+2 reference having to do with the fact that human beings currently have a chromosome composition of 44+2, and that if/when we develop the additional chromosomes necessary to reach 46+2 then we'll achieve "Christ consciousness." Yadda, yadda, yadda... That may or may not be, but on a more basic level, I still get plenty out of this song:

My shadow's
shedding skin and
I've been picking
Scabs again.
I'm down
Digging through
My old muscles
Looking for a clue.

I've been crawling on my belly
Clearing out what could've been.
I've been wallowing in my own confused
And insecure delusions
For a piece to cross me over
Or a word to guide me in.
I wanna feel the changes coming down.
I wanna know what I've been hiding in

My shadow.
Change is coming through my shadow.
My shadow's shedding skin
I've been picking
My scabs again.

I've been crawling on my belly
Clearing out what could've been.
I've been wallowing in my own chaotic
And insecure delusions.

I wanna feel the change consume me,
Feel the outside turning in.
I wanna feel the metamorphosis and
Cleansing I've endured within

My shadow.
Change is coming.
Now is my time.
Listen to my muscle memory.
Contemplate what I've been clinging to.
Forty-six and two ahead of me.

I choose to live and to
Grow, take and give and to
Move, learn and love and to
Cry, kill and die and to
Be paranoid and to
Lie, hate and fear and to
Do what it takes to move through.

I choose to live and to
Lie, kill and give and to
Die, learn and love and to
Do what it takes to step through.

See my shadow changing,
Stretching up and over me.
Soften this old armor.
Hoping I can clear the way
By stepping through my shadow,
Coming out the other side.
Step into the shadow.
Forty six and two are just ahead of me.

Around the time I first heard this song, I had recently experienced the end of a six year relationship in which I willingly suppressed parts of my personality in the name of what I thought was "compromise". Trite as it may sound, these words from MJK were a revelation. I'd been spending a lot of time "wallowing in my own confused and insecure delusions" of rejection and abandonment. Upon hearing this, I realized it was time to get re-acquainted with all those more... unusual portions of my self that didn't quite fit with my ex.

The idea of the shadow, I think, is often mis-represented. Many people seem to perceive of it as only containing our most perverse, unacceptable, "dirty" aspects. It's our "dark side", it's ugly, it's dangerous, it's sexy. That's like the Hollywood reading of the shadow. My own interpretation takes a wider view. While the shadow does seem to encompass the darker, perhaps less moral characteristics we'd rather not admit to, it also can contain all those silly, petty little needs we'd like to pretend we don't have: need for attention, need for approval, need for commendation, need for acceptance, need to always be right... Less dark, and decidedly less sexy. Also hidden amongst all of the dark dangerousness and less dark pettiness can be strong, creative, more elemental aspects of our character that we may just plain not know how to deal with, so we stuff them down and sublimate them in those deep areas of our unconscious. Here's a concise description that seems to me to be fairly accurate: Confrontation with the Shadow by Kevin Wilson.

By taking a good, hard, objective look at our reactions and behaviors, we can begin to see some the elements of our own shadow. It's especially easy to see when we catch ourselves in the act of projection. As our MySpace friend Kevin explains, very often the qualities we abhor in others are the very aspects of ourselves we'd rather not be conscious of. The obnoxious, arrogant co-worker who always has to be right. The self-centered, inconsiderate idiot who cut us off in traffic. The silly bimbo chick who gets all the attention at a party. The terrorists who blow up others in the name of "belief". If we look deeply enough in the mirror, we might see glimpses of ourselves, if not committing the same acts, then at least occasionally exhibiting similar characteristics and motivations, or wishing that we could. The fear of consciously realizing this about ourselves enrages us and, voila!, our fear and rage is projected onto that other person. (Hmmm... Suddenly this is tying in with my post on hatred...)

When we take the bold step of looking back over our feelings, actions, and motivations, really, truly and objectively analyzing them, then we can begin to catch glimpses of our shadow. The next step is to admit that we have these imperfections. Not with shame or self-loathing, mind you. Just with objective, rational acceptance. Even the Dalai Lama's shit stinks, man. Learn to live with your pettiness and your darkness. We all have some assortment of bad habits, needs, desires and traits that would get us kicked out of Sunday School. Why be so ashamed and afraid? This is not to say one should give these traits and impulses free-reign, of course. There is a reason that they're considered "bad". But let them out of the dark cellar of the unconscious, show them a little compassion, and you may find there's less to be afraid of than you thought. They may even behave themselves better than you expect, and can color your personality in some very interesting, albeit quirky, ways. Treat them as little siblings of the "big brother" good qualities in your nature. While the big brother gets a scholarship, goes off to college, becomes an intelligent and magnanimous President of the United States, those dark little siblings can sit at home quietly blogging, not feeling so much need to act up because they know that they're unconditionally accepted.

I choose to live and to
Grow, take and give and to
Move, learn and love and to
Cry, kill and die and to be
Paranoid and to
Lie, hate and fear and to
Do what it takes to move through.

Some favorite song lyrics and quotes...

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture in the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes...
I love not man less, but nature more."

George Gordon, Lord Byron (I don't know which poem this is from, unfortunately. I just found it somewhere.)

"A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier to have foolish thoughts."
George Orwell, from his 1946 essay "Politics and the English Language"


"Think for yourself. Question authority. Throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities, the political, the religious, the educational authorities who attempted to comfort us by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing, forming in our minds their view of reality. To think for yourself you must question authority and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable open-mindedness; chaotic, confused, vulnerability to inform yourself. Think for yourself. Question authority."
Timothy Leary, sampled on live version of "Third Eye", Salival (T00L)


"With an ounce of pain,
I wield a ton of rage..."
Chris Cornell, "Like Suicide", Superunknown (Soundgarden)


"The words you say
Never seem to live up to
The ones inside your head..."
Chris Cornell, "The Day I Tried to Live", Superunknown(Soundgarden)


"Friends and liars, don't wait for me.
I'll get on all by myself.
I put millions of miles
Under my heels,
And still too close to you I feel."
Chris Cornell, "I Am The Highway", Audioslave(Audioslave)


"Praise & blame,
gain & loss,
pleasure & sorrow,
come & go like the wind.
To be happy,
rest like a great tree
in the midst of them all."
The Buddha


"I choose to live and to
Grow, take and give and to
Move, learn and love and to
Cry, kill and die and to
Be paranoid and to
Lie, hate and fear and to
Do what it takes to move through."
Maynard James Keenan, "46+2", Aenima (T00L)


"Forget how soon
You become a fool for words
When I speak..."
Chris Cornell, "Flutter Girl", Euphoria Morning)


"With my feet upon the ground
I lose myself between the sounds
And open wide to suck it in,
I feel it move across my skin.
I'm reaching up and reaching out,
I'm reaching for the random or
What ever will bewilder me."
Maynard James Keenan, "Lateralus", Lateralus(T00L)


"Close your eyes and bow your head,
I need a little sympathy.
Cause fear is strong and love's for everyone
Who isn't me..."
Chris Cornell, "Burden In My Hand", Down on the Upside (Soundgarden)


"Sitting here like uninvited company,
Wallowing in my own obscenity,
I share a cigarette with negativity.
Sitting here like wet ashes with X's in my eyes,
And drawing flies..."
Chris Cornell, "Drawing Flies", Badmotorfinger(Soundgarden)


"And as I pull my head out I am without one doubt.
Don't wanna be down here feeding my narcissism.
I must crucify the ego before it's far too late.
I pray the light lifts me out
Before I pine away."
Maynard James Keenan, "Reflection", Lateralus (T00L)

Total freedom

Today has been one of those days. Got my butt out of bed and moving at a decent time for a change. Weather forecast for partly sunny skies but a chance of rain later. So, I headed out to Shepherdstown to my favorite tea shop, Shaharazade's. I had a feeling as I got onto Route 340 at Frederick that things were gonna be good. Since it was still fairly early (8:30-9:00 am-ish), most everyone else was either still at home or at church, which left the roads nice and clear. I flew through the rolling piedmont hills of Maryland, Virginia, and then West Virginia on the way to Shep'town, with a new Chris Cornell mix cd playing at full volume and a mouthful of bubblegum. Pulled up in front of Sharazade's and went in to find my favorite table empty and waiting for me. Ordered the excellent fritatta and a pot of Keemun Imperial and slouched down to read some Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

After breakfast, I couldn't resist a stroll through Shep'town and headed through the historic district up to a little park that sits on a cliff next to the Potomac River. The highlight of the park, aside from the view, is a surprisingly impressive monument to James Rumsey, the inventor of the steamship. So there I ended up, sitting below the Rumsey Monument, overlooking a sweeping curve of the Potomac and feeling completely, totally at peace. I keep thinking about how the only times I ever feel this way are when I'm alone. It was that realization that led me to cut ties with my last group of friends a year or so ago. Sitting in a place like this, feeling this way and thinking deeply, a part of me wishes I had someone with whom to share it, savor it, and discuss it. The rest of me, though, knows from past experience that it rarely ever works out the way I imagine it. It's only when I'm alone that I can relax enough to drop the self-consciousness and really be myself. When I'm around other people, no matter how close the friendship, the persona switches on and I find myself re-playing things later and wondering how much was me and how much the act my persona puts on to be accepted. Also, there's the reality of other people. In any given scenario, no matter how well you know a person, you can't script what they're going to say or how they're going to act. You run the risk of them saying or doing something that can totally spoil the mood. I want to share the things and places that are special to me, but I don't want them to be demeaned if the person I'm sharing them with doesn't appreciate them in the way I do. I've found it better to just have these great moments on my own and get the most out of them. Kind of bittersweet that way, but so far the sweet outweighs the bitter.

Walking back from the park, I remembered a young girl who stood in line in front of me at an A Perfect Circle concert a few years ago. Waiting to get in for the show, I listened to her talking to her friend, going on and on about how she perceived of herself as being weird and alone and how she despaired of finding someone who would accept her and relate to her. She interspersed this personal stuff with various comments about how she thought Maynard James Keenan is God. I came so close to laughing out loud. Not at her. Well, not entirely at her. I had two thoughts that night, based on her ramblings:

1) The lyrics he writes indicate to me that MJK is way too aware of his own humanity to perceive of himself as any kind of a god.

- and -
2) That I would have loved the opportunity to have this little girl read some of the journals I wrote back when I was her age. Some of what she was spouting was almost verbatim what I wrote way back then. She wasn't so different and alone as she thought, she just wasn't well-read enough or experienced enough to know any better. And neither was I at that age. Hell, I'm still writing that kind of stuff.

Only a few things get to me like a beautiful ribbon of pavement rolling out in front of me, up and over hills and curling around curves... At one point on the drive back from Shep'town, I found myself singing along at the top of my lungs to Audioslave's "Wide Awake" with the biggest fool-ass grin on my face. Now, "Wide Awake" is not a happy song. Cornell wrote it in response to Dubya Bush and the Hurricane Katrina situation. But at that moment, the words weren't what was moving me. I was freaking high on fast speed and a good road, sunshine, and the fact that I was consistently able to stay on-key with Chris Cornell. While I've often considered experimenting with drugs, at moments like that I really wonder if any drug could top the euphoria I felt.

Unfortunately, being under the influence of that euphoria prompted me to stop at the bicycle shop on the way home and shell out $100 on new gear for my pony. Ah well, it's all good. The pony induces its own high.