Archive for July, 2010

Inception on the couch — interpreting collective dreams

July 28, 2010

Whatever brought you to these words today, please consider taking a moment to dedicate reading them to whatever it is that you want (health, wealth, success, love, happiness, your child or children’s well-being).  Setting an intention is a step toward elevating the mundane, which may be the lion’s share of what it takes to get more spirit into, and out of, our lives (not to mention the collective situation that we all share).

Meanwhile, what I wish for you is for you to want what already is.  In this way I wish my version of true happiness for you.  And your happiness, I believe, will benefit everyone you care about (i.e. happy parents are a gift to their children).

While there is no shortage of opinions about the new movie, Inception, (and I’m not here to add another one to the mix) as a zeitgeist phenomenon, films that question reality are coming at us with increasing bigness, frequency and would-be importance.  So, what might this be reflecting back to us myriad members of the zeitgeist?

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“All I really want our love to do…

July 21, 2010

…is to bring out the best in me and you” Joni Mitchell “All I Want.”

After declaring Please Give to be the best movie I’d seen this year, along comes another small movie with a big heart, The Kids Are All Right, to serve as a perfect west coast companion piece to Please Give’s New York City.

While Please Give captures the texture, tone and spirit of the rather specific slice of New York City in which I have lived and loved in an earlier chapter of my life, and through which I wander in my imagination when I read about plays, restaurants and exhibits in “the paper of record” (but from which I am currently blocked from fully savoring by economics and time zones), The Kids Are All Right is a movie that would probably make me miss the very specific LA in which I live, wander and wonder… if I were sweating this summer out in New York.

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Bumbling toward consciousness

July 14, 2010

The other day I found myself hunched over the wet grass in front of my house carefully teasing out dead bees from tangled strands of green—hundreds of bees that had rained down in a grim circle.  I had nearly filled a large paper cup with them, working two plastic spoons that I’d grabbed as tools for this arcane and morbid task, when two passing women stopped to ask me what I was doing.

Too discombobulated to think of a plausible story, I told them the truth.  And so we got to talking about the puzzling things in life which then led to talking about my pervasive and surreal feeling that we’re all living in a shared lucid dream, in response to which they invited me to their scriptures class.

While my soul does not currently whisper for me to go to scriptures class, I deeply appreciated the two kind women and their abiding faith and was left feeling that although we travel upon different bridges, we’re indeed making our way to some common island (of oneness or collective consciousness or love… or maybe even to annihilation)—some elusive yet ever-present place where the spirits of dead bees live amongst us in the here and now.

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Uncling

July 7, 2010

While in the abstract I look forward to being a grandparent, in the meantime I find myself musing on the role of the uncle and an inkling about “uncling” in general.

My brother recently visited with his middle child, and because we live far apart and have busy lives I only see my nephews in very widely spaced snapshots of their childhoods.

Thus I got to know nine-year-old Charlie for the first time since he was much younger, and after he left I kept thinking of one of my favorite films, Meet Me in St. Louis, because there’s a character in that movie who’s equally full of life and completely captivated with things scary, much like Charlie (if you’ve not seen the movie, it’s quite charming, particularly the Halloween sequence).

From his hammerhead shark pj’s to his love of horror films (shared with Will), Charlie was keen to keep up with his big cousins, thirteen and sixteen, and took much interest in boy things (particularly things macabre, scary or potentially “inappropriate”).  It’s sweet to see a nine-year-old having manners while testing limits in contrast to mouthy teens who have been eroding the shores of decorum with random stormy onslaughts of curse words (that by now we mostly let wash right back out to the sea of been there done that vulgarity).

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