Friday, June 30, 2023
Thursday, June 29, 2023
Seek out discomfort
- What if instead of tolerating discomfort (e.g. feeling awkward or uncomfortable), people actively sought it out?
- We suggest that seeking discomfort as a signal of growth can increase motivation...
from Tweet by Ethan Mollick, who says:
Great paper for teaching & learning. Tell students: “Your goal is to feel awkward and uncomfortable.” Giving an explicit goal of aiming to feel uncomfortable in order to grow makes folks persist in classes, write better, seek out more info & learn more from political opponents.
***
In The Pocket Pema Chodron, in Chapter 3, "The path of the bodhisattva-warrior"....'
Wherever we are, we can train as a warrior. The practices of meditation, loving kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity are our tools. With the help of these practices, we can uncover the soft spot of bodhichitta, the tenderness of the awakened heart. We will find that tenderness in sorrow and in gratitude. We will find it behind the hardness of rage in in the shakiness of fear. It is available in loneliness as well as in kindness.
Many of us prefer practices that will not cause discomfort, yet at the same time we want to be healed. But bodhichitta training doesn't work that way. A warrior accepts that we can never know what will happen to us next. We can try to control the uncontrollable by looking for security and predictability, always hoping to be comfortalbe and safe. But the truth is that we can never avoid uncertainty. This not knowing is part of the adventure, and it's also what makes us afraid.
Bodhichitta training offers no promise of happy endings. Rather, this "I" who wants to find security - who wants something to hold on to -- can finally learn to grow up. The central question of a warrior's training is not how we avoid uncertainty and fear but how we relate to discomfort. How do we practice with difficulty, with our emotions, with the unpredictable encounters of an ordinary day?
***
Jim Collins, in Good to Great, also says we must "confront the most brutal facts of our reality."
Wednesday, June 28, 2023
The Donation Stand or Garbage Amnesty Scrum
Tuesday, June 27, 2023
TV Buddha
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| TV Buddha, 1974 |
American Masters episode on Nam June Paik references Buddhism throughout. There's an article about his fraught relationship on American Masters here.
If the Buddha were here today, what would he do with television?
Nam June Paik answers with his famous TV Buddha installation of 1974: a statue of Buddha sits in meditation facing a television set; on top of the set, a closed-circuit camera points at the Buddha and feeds a live image of it into the screen. The work is simple and funny, yet, like Paik’s best work, allows multiple and contradicting interpretations
Is the Buddha lost in its own image, entranced as we are by the magic of the closed circuit, a forerunner to the selfie?
***
Is the piece a joke, cutting the gravitas attached to Buddhism? Or is it a reverential update to Buddhist art, Paik’s answer to the brush masters and sculptors of the past?
***
One of the main questions of Buddhism is how to face the suffering of the world. Paik seemed to live with that question in every moment, driving himself into endless experiments and collaborations, generating countless works in many media. His answer, unlike many artists, was not in beauty— “newness is more important than beauty,” he said, and it’s hard to call many of his works beautiful, or even pleasant. Experimentation was his art; his relentless, optimistic quest to expand the limits and definition of communication were his answer to suffering.
Paik’s landmark Good Morning Mr. Orwell, a live variety show of avant-garde art that featured friends like Merce Cunningham and Laurie Anderson, broadcast on New Year’s Day of 1984 and reached an estimated 25 million people across America and South Korea, Europe and the Eastern Bloc. Despite technical issues, Paik considered the project a success. If only artists, rather than nations and corporations, could harness the TV’s power, perhaps we could use it not to control, but to astonish, to show us new possibilities.
If the Buddha were here today, what would he do with television? Paik’s TV Buddha shows us that he’s already here, both watching and broadcasting into the screen. What to make of this broadcast Buddha, and how to use that screen to face our suffering—Paik leaves that for us to figure out.
In the main page about the episode: "Avant-garde artist Nam June Paik saw a future in which “everybody will have his own TV channel.” With the advent of social media and the rise of platforms like YouTube and TikTok, Paik’s vision of the future looks startlingly like the present."
Monday, June 26, 2023
Information Superhighway
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| Nam June Paik, Electronic Superhighway: Continental U.S., Alaska, Hawaii, 1995, fifty-one channel video installation (including one closed-circuit television feed), custom electronics, neon lighting, steel and wood; color, sound, approx. 15 x 40 x 4 ft., Smithsonian American Art Museum, I learned about this from the American Masters episode on Nam June Paik, "Moon is the Oldest TV." According to Smithsonian: |
When Nam June Paik came to the United States in 1964, the interstate highway system was only nine years old, and superhighways offered everyone the freedom to "see the U.S.A. in your Chevrolet." Walking along the entire length of this installation suggests the enormous scale of the nation that confronted the young Korean artist when he arrived. Neon outlines the monitors, recalling the multicolored maps and glowing enticements of motels and restaurants that beckoned Americans to the open road. The different colors remind us that individual states still have distinct identities and cultures, even in today's information age.
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Sunday, June 25, 2023
Will, desire, and training
| Crows in an Old Tree, by Yosa Buson, 18th century |
From "How to Do Nothing," by Jenny Odell: (72)
Margaret Y. Henry writes about Cicero:
He freely admits that antecedent and natural causes gives men a tendency in one direction or another. But he insists that men are nevertheless free to perform specific acts independent of such tendencies and even in defiance of them... Thus a man may build a character quite at variance with his natural disposition.
Cicero cites the example of Stilp and Socrates: "It was said that Stilpo was drunken and Socrates was dull, and that both were given to sensual indulgence. But these natural faults they uprooted and wholly overcame by will, desire, and training (voluntate, studio, disciplina).
If we believed that everything were merly a product of fate or disposition, Cicero reasons, no one would be accountable for anything and therefore there could be no justice. In today's term, we'd all just be algorithms. Furthermore, we'd have no reason to try to make ourselves better or different from our natural inclination.
Saturday, June 24, 2023
Sparrow Sound Map of the Neighborhood
| Icon Perched on a Tree, Isoda Koryusai, 1785 |
Other bird species learn not just one but multiple song variants. Song sparrows, common suburban and rural birds across North America, sing eight to ten different variants of their jaunty song of accented notes and trills, repeating each variant several times before switching to another. Every bird has its own repertoire. By listening carefully, we humans can build a sparrow-sound map of the neighborhood, drawn in air by ephemeral ink of birdsong. Their repertoires are just rich enough to challenge human memory. From one spot in a garden in Tennessee I can hear five males and about forty song variants, a delight as I try to notice and keep each songster's collection in mind.
The brown thrasher, though, defeats human ears. Each singer has up to two thousand phrases in its quiver. These it shoots out for hours in volleyed pairs. . . . Some of the sonic variants are mimicked versions of other species, suggesting that learning continues throughout life, but most are the birds' creations.
Friday, June 23, 2023
Living out the programming of your ancestors
I had this image of myself yesterday of behaving like, acting like Uncle Mike. It's like I'm (unknowingly) living out the programming of my "ancestors." This is an idea that I encountered in Thich Nhat Hahn before, an appreciation of unknown constraints on your behavior that come to you from "ancestors."
The constraints could be DNA, a way of perceiving things.
The constraints could also be the trauma/support you recieved from your parents -- the things passed down, the phrases, the behaviors, the idea of what to pay attention to...
Also, I recently thought of a line chart of a life (my life) where the Y-axis is "interestingness" and the X-axis is years. There must be peaks and valleys in the line chart. There must be spikes and flat lines.
And if you think... well, maybe one peak was my year spent abroad. OK... well, then, how did THAT come to be? I got that idea from somewhere, I went to a school that made study abroad pretty cheap, I was "allowed" to go. But I was also conditioned somewhere/somehow to value doing something like that.
It's not hard to considered my 20-year old self as "constrained" or "conditioned." Why would I be different now?
I'm thinking now of a teacher at work, middle age has tightened, hardened her. The extraneous, the soft has fallen away, leaving a skeleton of things that were already there. I'm imagining that that's her genetic/familial destiny coming through.
Thursday, June 22, 2023
To behold is to become beholden to
| Sparrows and plum blossoms, by Hishida Shunso, 1910 |
Once, when I was giving a talk on my research for this book at a Stanford urban studies working group, somebody asked whether using iNaturalist wasn't alienating me from the landscape, since it represented an itemizing, scientific view. I answered that while I had to admit it looked that way, the app was a necessary step the remediation of my ignorance, a temporary, crutch. Learning the names of things was my first step in perceiving not just "land" or "greenery," but living bodies instead. And, at least at home, it wasn't as thought I stopped paying attention once I learned their names. Instead I remained observant over the seasons, learning not just their names but what they did, or rather, who they were. And at some point, this led to something in excess of disinterested observation -- not just with Crow and Crowson or the local night herons, but with everything, the plants and the rocks and the fungus. Eventually, to behold is to become beholden to. (145)
Wednesday, June 21, 2023
Branch Library by Edward Hirsch
Branch Library
Tuesday, June 20, 2023
Middle Season #17
Monday, June 19, 2023
Book Notes on The Pocket Thich Nhat Hanh
We are so busy we hardly have time to look at the people we love, even in our own household, and to look at ourselves. Society is organized in a way that even when we have some leisure time, we don’t know how to use it to get back in touch with ourselves.
Sunday, June 18, 2023
Take your vacation where you can find it
Walking at Bemis. I see a family sitting at the edge of the long open, rolling meadow at the farthest end of parking lot. One kid, maybe 8 years old, is juggling a soccer ball. The younger one is throwing balls be lacrosse balls some game. Two parents are sitting in collapsible bag chairs at the edge of a blanket, just enjoying the 79°. Nice breezy weather.
I’m thinking about how you can make a vacation anywhere anytime. Vacations don’t have to involve long trips, plane rides. It could be in the nearby forest preserve, if you position yourself wisely.
I'm not saying that you should take your vacation at any random place, or "your backyard could be your vacation." Actually, backyards can often be noisy and so close to important tasks that need to be done.
Instead, the place they chose was a little bit special. The vista that they were watching was pretty good. Rolling. The breeze was pretty good. They had positioned themselves so they couldn't see the parking lot, the bathroom structure, even the shelter that had another family in it.
Take your vacation where you can find it.
What does vacation mean? "Time away from....". Period. What?
Saturday, June 17, 2023
Robots Don't Freak Out
This playful Ten Percent Happier meditation led by Jeff Warren. On the podcast, it's called
According to the website: Be like a robot and try this light-hearted noting practice. Give your anxiety a break by immersing yourself fully in your external senses.
Warren starts with a couple calming breaths - in slow, then out on the count of four. Keep your eyes open. Then, at a rhythm of your own choosing, begin noting sights, sounds, thoughts. Say: "Hear" or "See" or "Feel." Make your voice a bit robotic. You are calm, noting like a metronome.
Initiate your noting sequence. It's like you're pouring your attention outward. Go at a pace that works for you. Long exhales. Yoke your noting to the end of your breath.
Robots don't get rushed. Keep the rhythm going.
Warren thanks his teacher Shinzen Young, a very skillful robot.
(I just thought of the connection between "noting" practice and "noticing.")
Friday, June 16, 2023
It's About Coming Back
From Mandy Brown's A Working Library
Fifteen years of any practice is notable. There’s so much out there about habits and “streaks” and how life is just some number of days that are counting down more rapidly than you’d care to admit so you’d better spend it well—as if you could know the full measure of your life and so budget accordingly. But if there’s anything I know about practicing it’s that it isn’t about rules or consistency or scarcity or god forbid optimizing: it’s about coming back. A practice is built on the movement of return.
Thursday, June 15, 2023
Cage Piece
In 1978, he built a roughly nine-foot-square cage in his studio for Cage Piece, a performance in which he would remain inside the cage for exactly a year. Every day, a friend would visit to bring food and remove waste. Beyond that, Hsieh drew up some draconian terms for himself: He was not allowed to talk, read, or write (except for marking each day on the wall); no television or radio was allowed. In fact, the only other thing in the cell besides the bed and the sink was a clock. The performance was open to the public once or twice a month; otherwise, he was alone. Asked later how he spent his time, Hsieh said that he had kept himself alive and thought about his art.
Wednesday, June 14, 2023
Moving from ego-center to zero-center
| Sparrows and plum blossoms, by Hishida Shunso, 1910 |
On Insight Hour Podcast #167, "Self and Self Loss," Joseph Goldstein talks about 3 levels of "dualism." The talk is structured around these 3 levels of dualism/ dualistic thinking. He references Ken Wilbur's book: Spectrum of Consciousness.
The three levels are: our separation from ALL things (the universe), the separation between ego and body, and, even within the I, the separation between personae and shadow.
Through mindfulness practice, we can explore our shadow side -- and it's necessary to welcome it, not hide it; we can think of the mind and body as a Centaur -- it's not like the mind (human rider) is on/controlling the body (horse), the two are united; and we can move from "ego-center" to "zero-center." He says that we are not machines that are waiting for sounds to come. Instead, "experience shows" that there is just hearing at that moment. Our bodies and the environment create something together -- we "are" the hearing (or thinking, etc). We don't have to do anything to hear. It's always already happening.
This is the clearest understanding that I've had about this important Buddhist concept (psychological concept? reality concept?)
The third level references the ego from our whole self. Goldstein talks at length about Jung's idea of the shadow.
There are so many parts of our experience which we don’t like, we don’t want to be there. We condemn, we judge, we push away—it can be difficult feelings in the body, difficult emotions, feelings of hatred, rage, unworthiness, loneliness, profound alienation. It can be so many things, so many parts of the mind that are the shadow side. The process of healing, the process of integration, is a willingness to open to all of those sides, to see the shadow in all its manifestation.
In this episode, Joseph dives into:
- How we create the concept of duality/separation (self and other, inside and outside, persona and shadow, etc.)
- Understanding our practice of Dharma as reintegrating and unifying
- Using mindfulness to shine light on our shadow by making the subconscious conscious
- Moving from the ‘ego-center’ to the ‘zero-center’ using the intermediate space of love (a very deep appreciation, respect, and openness for every moment’s experience)
- Carlos Castaneda and the relationship between impeccability and emptiness
Tuesday, June 13, 2023
Waiting for our senses to grow sharper
| Yamabuki by Sakai Hōitsu, late 18th-early 19th century |
"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper." ―W.B.Yeats
Monday, June 12, 2023
Buzz & Skuttle
On Twitter, @Hill_Marion writes this:
I’ve been illustrating the insects I spot in our tiny city garden. I’m astonished by the species diversity in such a small space (this is just a selection). We avoid mowing & digging, encourage ground cover, nurture weeds, created a small pond and log pile.
Here's her cool website: Buzz & Skuttle. Here are a lot of printable bug illustration resources.
Sunday, June 11, 2023
One Day by Robert Creeley
Cotton Candy by Edward Hirsch
Cotton Candy
by Edward Hirsch
We walked on the bridge over the Chicago River
for what turned out to be the last time,
and I ate cotton candy, that sugary air,
that sweet blue light spun out of nothingness.
It was just a moment, really, nothing more,
but I remember marveling at the sturdy cables
of the bridge that held us up
and threading my fingers through the long
and slender fingers of my grandfather,
an old man from the Old World
who long ago disappeared into the nether regions.
And I remember that eight-year-old boy
who had tasted the sweetness of air,
which still clings to my mouth
and disappears when I breathe.
Saturday, June 10, 2023
Friday, June 9, 2023
Re-charging our battery
I found in my mailbox a postcard from NCTE that had a line of images that looked like the icons of a computer battery charging. I think the aim of the postcard was to ask teachers to recharge through subscribing to NCTE.
I think I'll borrow that image to my year-end "thanks" email to the department.
Two years ago I recall thinking about whether teachers knew how to re-charge. I'm under the impression that the socially-designated ways that we are supposed to recharge (cocktails, Florida beaches, Netflix binging) may or may not actually work. And that we should all investigate what things really do recharge our batteries -- sleeping? new experiences, new places, being in woods, making things, getting stronger, more flexible, checking in with friends, (re)newing.
The images in a line make me remember that re-charging takes time... There are roughly the same number of battery images as weeks off.
Thursday, June 8, 2023
Training Apparatuses for Attention
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| Ellsworth Kelly, Blue Green Black Red |
In How to Do Nothing, Jenny Odell writes about an experience with Ellsworth Kelly's Blue Green Black Red.
For lack of a better description, the painting seemed active. I can't stress enough that this was a bodily feeling -- like Buber's tree, the painting "bodied" across from me. I realized I needed to look at every single panel, spending the same amount of time on each one, since each color vibrated differently, or rather, my perception of the the color did. Strange as it sounds to call a flat, monochromatic painting a "time-based medium," there was actually something to find out in each one -- or rather, between me and each one -- and the longer time I spent, the more I found out. Somewhat sheepishly, I thought about how someone across the room, too far away to understand, would see me: a person matter-of-factly staring at one after another of panels with "nothing" on them.
These paintings taught me about attention and duration, and that what I'll see depends on how I look, and for how long. It's. a lot like breathing. Some kind of attention will always be present, but when we take hold of it, we have the ability to consciously direct, expand, and contract it. I'm often surprised at how shallow bth my attention and my breathing are by default. As much as breathing deeply and well requires training and reminders, all of the artworks I've described so far could be thought of as training apparatuses for attention. By inviting us to perceive at different scales and tempos than we're used to, they teach us not only how to sustain attention but how to move it back and forth between different registers. As always, this is enjoyable in of itself. But if we allow that what we see forms the basis of how we can act, then the importance of directing our attention becomes all too clear.
Wednesday, June 7, 2023
To want what we want to want
From Odell, How to Do Nothing
Odell cites James Williams, on U of Oxford's Practical Ethics blog. The blog title is something like "why it's ok to block ads."
We experience the externalities of the attention economy in little drips, so we tend to describe them with words of mild bemusement like "annoying" or "distracting." But this is a grave misreading of their nature. In the short term, distractions can keep us from doing the things we want to do. In the longer term, however, they can accumulate and keep us from the living the lives we want to live, or even worse, undermine our capacities for reflection and self-regulation, making it harder, in the words of Harry Frankfurt, to "want what we want to want." Thus there are deep ethical implications lurking here for freedom, wellbeing, and even the integrity of the self.







