Mr. Cloudy's Shelter

laughter

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Thu, 30 Jul 09 21:42:00 UT

I wish I could make people laugh more. It is an amazing gift, and I'm fortunate to have some friends who are very good at it. Sometimes I don't feel like laughing, and I rarely feel like having someone try to cheer me up. But the masters of the absurd are a gift and I give thanks for them.

self-doubt

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Fri, 17 Jul 09 17:12:00 UT
At least there is one thing I'm good at.

Tarzan - 1932

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Sat, 11 Jul 09 07:41:00 UT
I watched the 1932 Tarzan movie with Johnny Weissmuller. When I was a kid I watched Tarzan movies and Godzilla movies whenever they were on. So it was a journey back in time. I probably haven't seen one of the Weissmuller versions for over 30 years. So I was curious whether it would really just seem hokey - like when my son and I once watched a late Godzilla movie and he laughed.

I think the film is actually pretty well done. You can tell some of the tricks they did (like having trapeze bars for Tarzan to swing from and superimposing images onto another image. But considering this was done a year before King Kong, I think it holds up well. I had fun watching it - maybe it was the childhood connection. They really did some work to get the wildlife footage they had.

Racism is an issue - the film could make for some interesting discussions on this point. Jane's father and companion speak of the white man's superiority. And of course Tarzan is white himself - who else to tame the jungle than the white man?

At the same time there is some respect given to the native customs - and it must have been an interesting cultural experience, especially at the time, to see the various tribes dancing and singing. And ultimately Jane submits to the wild while her father who seeks to plunder its riches, even if it means violating what the natives consider taboo, dies in the attempt.

I see it is rated 7.2 on IMDB, so apparently I am not alone in my surprise that as an adult it seemed a pretty decent movie, and quite an accomplishment in its era.

Comfort

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Mon, 6 Jul 09 19:37:00 UT
I care about you. I care about your suffering. I care about the mundaneness of life that threatens to undo you. I care about the sharp painfulness of life that makes you all too aware that life does not bend to the will of your heart. I care about the loneliness, the sobbing, the alienation, the dark places you must traverse alone, the uncertainty.

In a world where many shout their certainties, I can only whisper: I care about you.

Onion all the way down...

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Sun, 28 Jun 09 20:36:00 UT
Something like that was Shrek's retort to Donkey when Donkey asked what was beneath the layers of Shrek's Onion-ness.

I've often wondered if I could peel away the layers what I would find inside. At the moment I'm inclined to think I have a pretty good idea what I am, and what I am not. I'm not sure if there really is a mystery to be solved as much as a choice whether to be me or someone "better." It is naturally easy to say "be me." But to have real clarity about who one is, is also clarity about who one is not, and I cannot choose to be me without also choosing not to be who I am not. Tricky business this sort of giving up. I am not chatty, not emotionally stable, not resilient or sturdy of disposition, not physically energetic, not optimistic, not good at doing routine things because they must be done, not good at keeping in touch, not good at finishing projects or good at starting them except in rough outline, etc. and much worse unmentioned etc.

Now an irony is that by trying to be what I am not, I have learned to be very controlled/controlling. But that will have to go to (my best coping mechanism) because I can see now that it is the greatest self-rejection I practice. I've become very good at it (despite constantly seeing it's limitations) not because it is the real me but precisely because one of the few things I could believe all these years is that I must be not me.

And there's the rub. If I try to be me, it may just be another control game, and to be me I have to give up control, not exercise it. So I must be me effortlessly.

addiction

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Tue, 26 May 09 20:19:00 UT
Control, denial and eating.

Don't work very well, but they never fail to tantalize me.

Escape, escape, and escape.

It sucks to think of giving them up, even when it is clear they cause pain.

Memorial Day - a little Johnny Cash

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Sun, 24 May 09 12:55:00 UT
A little Johnny Cash for memorial day, and for all who suffer. While I'm not wearing black, I am Mr. Cloudy.

The Man in Black

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.

I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he's a victim of the times.

I wear the black for those who never read,
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.

Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought 'a be a Man In Black.

I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.

And, I wear it for the thousands who have died,
Believen' that the Lord was on their side,
I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died,
Believen' that we all were on their side.

Well, there's things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You'll never see me wear a suit of white.

Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day,
And tell the world that everything's OK,
But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Till things are brighter, I'm the Man In Black.

This and that and church

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Sun, 24 May 09 12:40:00 UT
Four day weekend - using a day of vacation. Grilling out. Family together. NBA Playoffs, a few movies, the above ground pool finally all cleaned up and ready for a memorial day swim. Lucky to have times like these.

I taught Sunday School at church last week. Have only done that about 3 times in th last 5 years. (I used to go to church regularly and taught adult Sunday School a lot.) I talked on readings and attempted practices of Buddhist meditation to a small and welcoming group. Perhaps this is the kind of church that will pull me back through those doors - if at least some of them find Buddhist meditation interesting, .... It did create a lot of anxiety in me and there a lot of painful memories that still incline me to 'stay the hell out of Dodge.' So we'll see, slowly, what happens.

I had some thoughts happen while I was teaching, and that is something I miss - trying to talk about something seems to help me see some connection I hadn't seen. I guess that's one of the reasons I blog - helps to see things outside of yourself sometimes.

All of that is secondary of course to gaining some sense of connectedness with other people, and teaching and blogging both seem to work for me (much better than small talk at social mixers).

Thanks to a friend who probably doesn't read this blog

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Thu, 14 May 09 20:54:00 UT
Ok. Rough day today. But there were blessings in it too. I sent an email to a co-worker that basically said - "I'm in a really foul mood", and nothing more. He replied that he just learned he was free for lunch - want to go? And I said yes.

What more can you ask of someone than to have them volunteer lunch in response to such an email? That's why there is a word: Grace.

And then I learned of a different co-worker who was in pain and was honored to pass along any grace I had received to her.

And then I had dinner with another friend, and a call from another on my way home. I still feel kind of yucky emotionally, but I guess you can be yucky and blessed at the same time.

Sunshine on a Mr. Cloudy day

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Wed, 13 May 09 20:21:00 UT
Well, as Meredith Brooks sang: Some days are better than others, some days you just can't figure out. She contrasted the two, but for me the days that are better than others are the days I can't figure out. Some days out of the blue the gods of brain chemistry, sleep, energy, no obsessive thinking just seem to say surprise. I can't quite say it is all blue skies today, but partly cloudy is still easier than ominous clouds.

I slept well last night - and it is surprising what a difference sleeping well can make. Of course it begs the chicken and egg thing: did I sleep well because I was unbeknownst to me already starting to feel better or am I feeling better because I slept well?? Either way, I'll take it.

Wherever you are at today, I hope you find a safe shelter in the storms, an umbrella and golashes for the steady rain, and sunscreen when its all sunshine.

Money, Food, Dishes and Fun?

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Sat, 9 May 09 07:22:00 UT
I find it really hard to set a realistic budget. I can make a budget that is reasonable, but then something comes up - car repair, or whatever. And I realize that my budget then isn't realistic if it doesn't include room for car repairs which obviously will happen.

And I find the same cycle with money that I find in most of life - I can never quite bring myself to the kind of discipline that many religious and philosophical tradtions say is the path to freedom.

Spending money is fun. Eating cheesecake is fun. Not washing the dishes tonight is relaxing, ...

I suppose these traditions would say these are not fun, just self-delusions, escapism, maybe even self- and other-harming.

But it's Saturday, so maybe I'll stop having "fun" on Monday. ;^)

the isolation of suffering

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Thu, 7 May 09 21:02:00 UT
There are none so lonely as those whose pain seems too much not only for themselves but for others as well. To feel toxic is perhaps the ultimate pain.

Brett Favre

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Wed, 6 May 09 19:13:00 UT
I'm a devout Packer fan - what other kind is there?

But a note to Brett (who will always be beloved for what he gave our team): Join the Vikings, take out some vengeance if it makes you feel better. Beat the Packers, go to the Super Bowl and win it. Prove yourself and prove Ted Thompson wrong. It's ok.

For better or worse, however, I'm bored with it all.

Mourning

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Wed, 6 May 09 19:04:00 UT
One of the most powerful songs I have ever listened to: Oh My God, by Jars of Clay.

Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, "Oh my God"

Oh my God, Why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don't bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase, and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God.

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief and graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries

Liars and fools; sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found; ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels; men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken hearted; separated
Orphans always say
War creators; racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers; fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints; lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers; watchful doubters
Saviors always say

Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be, maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better,
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes,
And all the fear that keeps me silent falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded that the pain is worth the thunder

Sometimes when I lose my grip, I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat all the wounds that money causes,
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children - this is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers - this is our greatest offense

Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God

Fiction

mrcloudy@prodigy.net — Tue, 5 May 09 22:02:00 UT
I think an upshot of a few comments D and I have made recently suggest a confluence of streams that I find interesting. I am coming to believe that we create narratives in our life - we tell ourselves a story by which we make sense of and try to integrate all the disparate pieces of our lives. And I further think that it is likely all of these narratives are in some sense Fiction. And I wonder given that many of you write Fiction, what you may think of this.

It seems we are characters of our own making, to some extent at least. Sometimes our story is of pain, sometimes of vindication, sometimes of boredom, sometimes of understanding. And yet what seems like this moment's truth, once we turn the page and continue writing (or reading) we look back and see that truth in a completely different way.

And I wonder how much our stories free us and how much they trap us. I think D has suggested that if we are truly present now, and we let things be without constructing a narrative of where we've been and where we are going, perhaps we can find freedom, true freedom - sort of like a character who steps out of the book.

And it is interesting that books and movies wrestle with just such questions from time to time, breaking the rules - like Woody Allen in Annie Hall turning to address the camera he isn't supposed to know is there. And I wonder what the analogy would be for us characters caught in our own and other's stories about us.