perspective - it matters

Time, age, tiredness, joy, sadness, loss, gain – these hard-to-define concepts are aspects of the human condition, not iron-clad rules of law but rather matters of perspective that change with one's outlook on life. What is to one person a grave insult is to another as a joyous and welcome gift. A few days ago, a family friend was telling me about growing up Jewish in a Christian town, and how the other kids would throw pennies at her and call her a penny-pinching kike, and other bad names, and how she would pick up those pennies and use them to buy herself cartons of milk and boxes of cookies, which cost about five cents a-piece. And then there is my longtime partner-in-crime, Mr. P, a friend from my childhood in Germany, who makes over a hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars a year, who lives in the new W residences near the World Trade Center site in New York City, and who is so upset with his former boss in Thailand for that man firing him and forcing him to leave that country that his heart has become swamped with hatred, keeping him from seeing his life as blessed, the kind of life that people kill for.

I spoke with Mr. P a fortnight ago, trying to help him see things from a different perspective so that he might come to enjoy his time Stateside and not be so miserable and mopey all the time, but changes in perspective are achieved only by each person individually and are not easily forced, or coerced. So subtle is perspective, and at once so powerful, that entire industries exist to shape and to mold the views of persons who consume media (which accounts for any person who has ever watched TV or listened to the radio). Even as far back as the 1930s, American advertising was so effective and so quick to control and to shape the perspectives of millions of far-flung and unrelated citizens that the National Socialists in Germany, the Nazis, adopted Yankee-pioneered advertising and propaganda techniques and used them to brainwash tens of millions of good, honest Teutons into acquiescing to the invasion of sovereign foreign nations and the eradication of train-loads of men, women, and children. The power of the American advertising machine persists – so great is it that an imbecile such as the political puppet Sarah Palin can be packaged and sold in such cunning fashion that otherwise intelligent individuals come to see her as a desirable candidate for the second-highest office in the land.

You may be asking yourself right about now, “Well then, oh-so-clever LyeSmythe, how can I avoid being brainwashed, and how can I craft for myself a pure and honest view of the world?” Persons who change their perspectives begin by turning off and throwing out their television sets, they refuse to watch junk-TV (think reality- and talk-shows), they get news from sources located in different countries around the world, and they read news in languages other than English. In this manner, self-respecting people avoid the snare of America's propaganda juggernaut, giving their minds enough unique views of news-worthy events that their opinions are not shaped or dominated by just one brand of crazy.

Beyond the political sphere, however, one's perspective of something on the order to time itself – time-keeping via clock or watch, being on or off schedule, on time or off it, early or late – is shaped by society and by the consensual, Western hallucination that time is a rigid temporal plane extending in a straight line from the past into the future. Which is all well and good until one runs into the article entitled the Rebirth of a Sioux Nation in the August 2012 edition of National Geographic in which the author talks about the way the people of the Oglala Sioux view time – as a cyclical maelstrom in which past and present, life and death, and the spirit and waking worlds are shadows of one another, not strictly separate realms. Seeing the world from a point of view so foreign to the cookie-cutter, pre-packaged perception drilled endlessly into the heads of average Americans is a nice way to blow one's mind on a rainy Tuesday afternoon; such adventures into the curious minds of wise and ancient peoples are good ways to keep one's perspectives loose, and flexible. Therefore, on the next occasion that someone complains that you were not on time, you, dear reader, can claim to be changing your views on the nature of the universe, and that the clocks were wrong, not you. Give the gift of cognitive insecurity – change your mind frequently, adopt new points of view as often as you are able, and keep that dome-piece of a swivel. Mahalo.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit

yoga – its power

Self-healing, discipline, inner peace, awakening the animal spirit – all these things yoga brings, and more, so many more that I struggle to find words simple enough to describe its endless benefits. An ancient method for keeping the body limber by stretching out its limbs, yoga is practiced by millions of people around the world, every day. A boon to all aspects of this clumsy and poorly-executed stab at being human, since doing yoga daily my life has improved considerably.

First, my digestive system is functioning regularly and with little discomfort, and I can feel layers of muscle in the area of my core that I have not felt since childhood. Second, my injured shoulders are moving in ways that allow me to perform hours of hard labor every day, activities such as taking down trees and sawing and splitting wood that, without yoga, would be difficult and painful; with yoga, however, the arm-joints are loose and ready for work, popping and creaking nicely as I wind them through my sun salutations. Third, I am bringing my left leg back into such alignment with hip and spine it had before I crashed while snowboarding with improperly-adjusted bindings, tearing its Achilles-tendon. Fourth, yoga gives me something to do that I myself must do, and to which I must give my full concentration, something that must be done correctly and that cannot be cheated, short-cut, or jury-rigged, something that is honest, simple, and pure. And, finally, for the first time since my mother died a dozen years ago, I am building positive connections with that mysterious inner power that some people call god, others the soul, and others the voice of the ancestors, but, lacking a more appropriate term, that I style Tao, that tiny inner voice that is all too easily lost in the avalanche of sensory input coming from tablet, cellphone, listening device, billboard, bus-ad, HD television, and satellite radio.

The individual seeking to lay aside the artificial concerns and demands of this fascinating modern age in which we live clears herself and her mind of self-interested materialism and the need to be speaking constantly by doing yoga. This peaceful martial art reveals within her heaving bosom the very secrets of the universe itself, helping her to live a virtuous life replete with non-acts of selfless honor and enduring goodness, giving her the tools she needs to delve into her hidden deeps and to clear her mind of torment and woe. So broad is its reach, so uncomplicated are its moves, that one can do yoga anywhere and at any time; so great are its benefits that I can hardly imagine how I managed to lead a decent life before I doing yoga daily. (I realize in retrospect that I was living a less than decent life.) As with any activity, avoid charlatans merely seeking financial gain, and learn either from an instructional video or from a teacher whose stated goal is the student's personal betterment, not her own, personal wealth. With yoga, dear friend, life's little torments lose their sting, life's little joys are magnified tenfold, and the secrets of eternity blossom from deep within the glittering folds of mankind's everlasting and indomitable spirit. So quit your bitching, get to stretching, and, as always, keep a song in your heart and your head on a fucking swivel. Mahalo.

場黑麥 mentiri factorem fecit