our enemy – television

Television is the creative person's bane, a threat greater than most others are. Watching TV feeds the human need for companionship without ever really satisfying it and crushes creative capacity by tricking the brain into thinking it is doing something and being productive when it is just sitting idle. Creativity, power, assuredness, and passion all reside in the 2nd and 3rd chakras, the lower half of the torso that extends from the breastbone to the genitals. Look down at your own belly for a moment. Can you see your belt-buckle or waistband as it sits atop the pelvic bone? Can you feel and move the abdominus erectus, that muscle that runs from the bottom of the breastbone to attach to the top of the pelvis? If you cannot, you are not alone – more than a third of all Americans are obese, and many of these individuals carry a large portion of this additional weight in the lower halves of their torsos. The decision to sit down and watch television has disastrous consequences on the 2nd and 3rd chakras – it numbs and dulls them, confusing and stifling the free flow of energy through the regions of the core, an area central to living the best of possible human lives. Man is a gullible animal; after seeing just a few commercials related to food he will get food from his kitchen and eat that food (without focusing on what he is eating) while staring longingly into the beautiful bright lights of his TV set. If he repeats this sequence often enough he will get fat, and his increased girth will further stifle the free flow of energy through the region of his core and exacerbate the unhealthiness that stems from a lack of regular exercise and from a preference for prepackaged foods ready to eat over meals carefully and consciously crafted. Persons who wish to lead lives full of creativity and passion avoid watching television; they know that there are more constructive ways to fill their time than by staring at an electric light-box; they paint, draw, dance, or write; they make educated and intelligent decisions about what to eat and what to put through their orifices of eye and mouth and ear instead of numbing out the intestines by shoveling in as much sugary and salty and fatty foods as the gut can handle without bursting; they lead happy lives untethered from groomed and glossy but ultimately vacuous material. Downtrodden and passionless masses of the world, awake! Turn off your television sets! Humanity, and Mother Nature, need you now more than ever. Aho.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on watching movies

I have an interesting relationship with movies. I have come to understand that when I was a teenager I would watch movies in order to escape from the reality of living under a genius-level, PhD-holding, self-despising, alcoholic father. Some movies I have watched so many times that I can run the dialogue almost word for word, delivering cadence and timing nearly perfectly. (Among these are The Hunt For Red October & The Untouchables.) The ability to memorize and regurgitate long portions of dialogue is one that serves but a few purposes; I am not currently working as an actor, and so my skills in this area are limited to entertaining myself by regurgitating long portions of dialogue while watching my favorite movies. Additionally, I have found that I can recall, even months or years later, who starred in a particular movie when all I saw of that movie was its trailer, one time. Having pondered upon these curious powers, I realize I tend to use them mostly in social situations when speaking to others similarly endowed. My skills, however, carry over to the realm of books; I can recall in great detail portions of books as well as give extensive summaries – without prior planning – of their contents. Again, my recall abilities endure for years, even decades, after having read a book I enjoyed. To what end do I employ these gifts today? I use them most when smithing lies about one of my favorite Central Asian countries: Grigovia. Heavy hangs the crown, white grows the hair that frames it.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on reprogramming memories

Under the guidance the Embodying Enoughness series by Turbo Dog Yoga Chicago, I am learning how to change the null-loops that infest my brains. The process is simple; it is honest; to borrow from the language of the computer, it uses the basic technique of writing over old memories with new data. After a thorough yoga session, one lies in corpse pose and delves deeply into the psyche, rooting around for stuck or toxic patterns. Then, once one has selected a memory and it is playing before the mind's eye, one re-imagines it as if it had had the best of possible outcomes, as if all the bad things that happened were instead good things, as if pain and suffering had instead been relaxation and joy. It is liberating to be able to change one's personal perception of the past in this way; it is a salubrious activity to step back from daily self-flagellation and free oneself from attachment to past events, lost hopes, and broken dreams. To walk this path requires guts, and determination; it is not for the weak of heart, or for those people who are not yet ready to heal. But once begun, addictive is a fitting term for the process of exhuming one's buried skeletons and snipping loose the threads of thought that tend to tether one to events and people reachable only within the time machine we call the mind. Chest up, breathe hugely, self-liberate! Aho.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on discovering Liberty

I am reading the Constitution of Liberty by F.A. Hayek, and my life is changing fundamentally. For years, I have felt strange when arguing certain political points or chasing one or the other topic down its respective rabbit-hole – this book is helping me understand why. Most of my life I have lived under the sway of unsound theories, of counter-productive opinions, of methods that more often than not have lead to failure, sadness, contempt, and woe. Now, however, as the awesome brilliance of the Torch of Progress shines into the dank and fetid recesses of my psyche, the foundations of my soul are beginning to dry out, and solidify. The shrill voice of nagging doubt loses its biting edge as my soul rejoices at the majesty of Liberty's countenance; my energies align as I perform the ancient practices of yoga and meditation; my being soars as mind – free of thought – merges with body to beholds the deep essence of the Universe. It has taken many moons of studying a plethora of unrelated texts to reach this point, and I dare not suggest that following in my footsteps would lead anyone else to the same conclusions. For now, though, perhaps just for today, I see a brightness on the horizon I have not seen in years, and it finally feels as if I am starting to truly understand myself. Huzzah.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on starting fresh

As part of the process of healing from addiction and childhood abuse, I am learning to keep coming back to square one. If things start getting squirrelly up in my brains, I breathe deeply using the Ujjayi method until the oppressively swirling thoughts recede. If I find myself descending into old habits and patterns, I take a few moments to examine the situation before choosing consciously to go a different route, even one that seems illogical or inefficient. I am merely at the start of this process; many of my actions are still rooted in past trauma, and often I find myself thinking self-mutilating and derogatory thoughts. I am learning however to not believe the mean guy who lives inside me, to always congratulate myself for having caught my negative behavior, and to move cautiously and with a mind to the future as I ponder a new way of things. Soon, perhaps, I may even reach a point where I can stop punishing myself for being rusty at sweet-talking a wholesome American girl. Wish me luck...

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on moving in

As the temperature outside drops, the mice move in. I hear them in the walls, clawing and scratching their way into their winter quarters, sprinting and slinking from one place to the next, going about their business without fear of trap or cat or poison. So familiar are they with the rhythms of this house that they boldly help themselves to my left-overs: recently, I found a baby mouse trying frantically to escape the filthy depths of my recycling bucket; I released the greasy mouseling on the deck behind the house, where he sat in the warm sun staring blankly up at me as if to say, 'Yeah, see you back inside in, like, a few hours.' One of the reasons I am loathe to replace the house's exterior covering is because I wish to avoid disturbing the leagues of tunnels my rodent roommates have burrowed into its dry-rotting timbers. Besides nesting in old pairs of lederhosen and making creepy noises as they invade the walls, the mice do me little harm; if anything, I welcome their presence and see it as a sure sign that Fall is near. Come one, come all, you little creatures, have herein a welcome stay, I'll clean up your furry corpses, chase you neither night or day.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on making sense

One part of fulfilling the requirements for certification as a yoga teacher is to read Courage to Heal, by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis. After finishing the first chapter, some things about my life began to make sense, including why I sabotage myself in the opening phases of relationships with beautiful young women and why I am always on edge when men touch me. (I am totally comfortable sleeping next to and in the same bed with my male friends, whom I trust to not violate me, but I find myself reacting violently and forcefully whenever touched by a person I don't fully know or trust.) I have done shameful things in my life, things which only make sense if I was abused as a child too young to talk. I apologize to anyone I might have hurt; please know I was confused and scared and corrupted by the actions of persons older than I was, persons who violated the sanctity of a child's fire and crushed his tender soul. I started confronting these demons during the teacher training in June of this year, but have gradually retreated into the solitude and depression I tend to experience living in this rural backwater. It has been a subtle shift, but I recognize it now, and vow to make my life as fruitful and happy as I can make it by confronting and moving through the shameful thoughts, remembering that I am a survivor, and keeping in touch with the persons my support group. I know not who I will be once the healing really gets going, but the foundations of my soul are built on a rotten core, and so I must dig everything up and start anew. Aho!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on pulling back

During the second week of September, 2013, I eased off my regular hardcore yoga practice in hopes of letting my back heal. While bicycling the week before, I had turned my head to scan for traffic and felt something shift in the tissue surrounding my second and third lumbar vertebrae. Not a violent or agonizing pain, it would flare when I bent from the waist or turned into standing poses such as Warrior II Interlock or Twisting Warrior I. Having already slacked a bit over the weekend while visiting friends (and meeting a beautiful young lady) in Washington, D.C., I did only rudimentary morning practices until Wednesday, when I could stand and move without experiencing any pain in the low back. The rewards of easing off of the daily full yoga sessions have been manifold: I am more enthusiastic about and have more energy to complete my 2-hour-long, predawn practices; I am proud of myself for listening to my body and respecting the information it was giving me; once the pain was gone I dove right back into the discipline, selecting challenging classes and not just giving up as I would have done in the old days; and I have used some of the energy and love generated in my practices to clear my mind of worry I have been harboring about what the aforementioned young lady thinks of me, for I have been thinking about her a lot, I enjoy her presence, and since this is the first time in a long time I find my attraction and interest reciprocated by another, I am over-analyzing everything and trying really hard not to fuck things up. Regardless of what occurs, I shall remember that pulling back is sometimes necessary to getting ahead. Aho!

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

on anti-graffiti

Cities go to great lengths to try and thwart the application of street art. They send out minions to paint over graffiti and scrape it away, apply materials that keep stickers from sticking, raise street signs and utility boxes higher to make them harder to reach, and cake on a cottage-cheese-like layer that diminishes a pole's available surface area. Not one of these measures keeps the graffito from pursuing his trade; rather, they force the SDUBS (self directed urban beautification specialist) to seek out new surfaces upon which to make his art, higher and less accessible areas to cover with paper or paint, new and craftier ways to make a name for himself in the riotous and anarchic meritocracy that is graffiti. We hope that someday the leadership councils of these cities will choose to promote and support the dazzling and intricate arrays of free artwork that the graffito spends his time and money creating and risks his life and liberty applying rather than them wasting limited resources on destroying beauty and making the asphalt landscape visually uniform. A barren phaltscape compels people to go home, draw a picture on a piece of paper, and tape or glue their creation to a neighborhood tree, pole, post, box, booth, or sign. Graffiti is among the oldest forms of human artistic expression we know of; for tens of thousands of years, mankind has been free to alter his surroundings, and there is indication he will be stopping anytime soon. Street art is here to stay and it will not be forced away so gather pen and pad and brush and get you outside – hurry, rush!

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

on staying calm

In the past, upon meeting a beautiful young lady whose interests and tastes happened to overlap with mine, I would have freaked out and started trying to spend as much time as possible talking to and being near her. With my jettisoning of the old ways however and my conscious efforts to stick to new methods, I managed to keep my shit together. I was neither too coy nor too aggressive, expressed myself honestly and calmly, enjoyed the time she and I spent together, and left when it was my time to leave. Caution and courtesy were foremost among the patterns of my mind, and I managed to honor the primal urges while not backsliding into sleaze-ball mode and trying to go in for erotic physical contact right off the bat. Having started to sow the great in with the small, I find myself taking the first beautiful steps on the journey of a thousand miles. Aho.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

on processing hatred

Recently, I have had heaped upon me a spiteful woman's scorn. I know not for sure why she hates me, and she knows not for sure why she hates me, but she has taken it upon herself to loathe me with passionate tenacity. The situation would be different if I were to choose not to go to their house regularly in order to make free lessons available to the whole family; the husband is so far my and only student however and I cannot bail on him, for I enjoy his company and watching his practice progress. I process this woman's hatred by accepting it and allowing it to wash over me without letting it get stuck to Spirit. I meet her injuries with kindness and her barbs with soft words. I greet her when I meet her and listen when she speaks. Perhaps responding in this way keeps the fires of her hatred alive – as one who cultivates within her soul dark and sad and dismal energies, she is likely intimidated by the brightness and Happiness I have sown within my own. So, what to do? Do I stay away entirely, ceasing to teach and canceling the friendship? Do I bear the slings and arrows of this misfortune, accepting them as tests of my compassion, courage, and dedication? I aim to live a life free of the shackles of woe and sadness and suffering, and I injure the Tender One within me every time I expose myself to negative emotion. I alone am responsible for my emotional status and for how I react to my environment and the people in it. Therefore, having abandoned slavery and taken up a hero's path, I shall continue to meet lies with truthfulness, loathing with love. Aho.

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥

few others walk

Ich versuche einen anderen Weg zu laufen als den von Bekannter und Freund; ich suche nach dem neunten Pfad, den den Helden betreten und dessen endgültiges Ziel nicht genau zu bestimmen ist. Bei meiner Suche bin ich schon in Schwierigkeiten geraten: Haß und Neid stehen mir entgegen, die Sucht nach Rauschgift gerinnt nur langsam, ich nehme mir zu viel Zeit beim Räumen und Verkaufen dieses alten Hauses, und die Versuchung ist groß einfach aufzugeben und wie die anderen ein bedenken- und moralloses Leben zu führen. Zum Glück habe ich eine neue Übersetzung des Daodejing gefunden, die mir dabei hilft die Radspuren der Kleindenker zu entweichen und wie den Wind ziellos durch die Gegend zu wehen. Fortan sehe ich mit originaler Reinheit, umschliesse ohne Anspruch, reduziere Besitz, und drossle Begierde. Der Heldenpfad ist breit und gemäß, aber die Leute bevorzügen umgänglichere Wege. Weshalb?

mentiri factorem fecit – 場黑麥