protean muse

El Labyrinto Del Fauno (Pans Labyrinth) Movie Review

2009-01-22T15:46:00.000-08:00

Living in the mountians for the month with only a few DVD's + a case of the winter flu = a re-watch of Guillermo Del Torro's "Pan's Labyrinth." I am reminded why this film impressed me so much:

I think it's a brilliant depiction of how we can so easily lose our connection to magic and Earth-wisdom, during our passage from one era to the next, and likewise from childhood to adulthood. We see this through the eyes of Ofelia, the main character. Not yet closed to the wonders of the natural world, she sees portals and creatures the grown-ups have long-forgotten, or stopped looking for. As a "dark fantasy" that taps the mythical and magical realms, this isn't a story about fantastical magic, but our connection to ordinary magic: what we contact when our minds are fresh, vivid, present. As the post-industrial age and 20th century began to over-run the wonder & awe of past eras & civilizations with a blind, alienating rationality and militant nationalism, the artifacts of these past worlds still lingered. These trademarks and dangers of passing into the modern age all culminated in WWII and -in the case of Pan's Labyrinth- Franco's Spain.

The cinematography, shooting, & visual effects serve the story with a compulsory appeal to leave our mundane consciousness behind. While watching, I find myself not even considering the acting, which usually indicates its brilliance. Up here in the Santa Cruz mountains this winter, I now find myself feeling the moss growing over the trees, the limbs of my curiosity reaching into the shadows of the forest, and wondering about the people who have lived on these ridges or in these valleys before me. When imagination is present, these are vivid parts of the moments and places that I find.

when I held a foreign land

2008-11-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

sometimes I am in a foreign land.

the water lapping the shore

touches lips the same

it explores my system

like strangers with their eyes.

cliff faces fondle me when I perch

on jagged smooth sentiments

our exposure changing us both,

leaving one another

just as we were found.

there is a whole life in your face

just as there were traces of ancient breaths

during a coughing fit last year

when friends I hadn't met were far from

wearing a shroud of green moss

as I came to them with a chisel,

bleeding,

forgetting what I held in my hands.

21st Century Tang (Space Medicine China-Style)

2008-11-10T02:12:00.000-08:00

This is exactly the kind of development needed in the field of space medicine: holistic remedies that strengthen human capacity to adapt to the rigors and stresses of space travel.

According to a recent article, China is already applying the wisdom of their ancient medicine to space flight. Chinese herbal formulas are being administered to increase recovery and stamina in their astronauts. The formula "Taikong Yangxin (space heart-nourishing) Capsule" is made of 10 different herbs. It apparently treats motion sickness and is proven to "improve cardiovascular conditions." And, in true TCM spirit, these formulas are apparently being tailored for each astronaut, since individuals have unique patterns or disharmonies of qi that a formula is adjusted for (whether modified in amounts according to the person's weight of each herb or their replacement based on their effectiveness). The "Space-Heart Nourishing" formula reportedly "helps taikonauts recover from stress and fatigue," as well as improve sleep and support recovery between missions. As a Chinese doctor and herbalist in training, I have no doubt of these herbs' capacity. I literally can't wait to get my hands on some. Remeber the orange drink Tang? I guess this a kind of 21st century, ancient Chinese wisdom's answer to our beloved surgary orange drink.

Wait...Tang sounds Chinese already...did it really come out of NASA? Urban legend says yes, but it looks like it was invented before being used on the 1965 Gemini missions.

Li Yongzhi, director of the medical department at the China Astronaut Research and Training Center, said: "The medicine will boost their physical conditions and improve their adaptability in an extreme environment." Even if this is the Chinese's answer to Tang, it probably doesn't have a refreshing orangey zip...

I hope NASA is taking notes!

[I lost the link to the original article, but I'll add it as soon as I find it again]

|Cross-posted on my Space Medicine blog|

Up Late with a Lion

2008-11-02T17:50:00.000-08:00

I cannot avoid moving for my fear of being eaten

Not anymore

Nor should any of us

So I move

And I may eat my words

Or my words, be eaten

Zone of Proximal Development & Waveriding 101

2008-10-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

I have a two-hour lunch on Fridays & a tempting 5-minute drive to Pleasure Point on the East side of Santa Cruz. I wolfed down bagels and hummus in the car as I peered over the cliffs at the surf. "Do I want to go out?" I kept asking. The surf looked good, but not great. I had stealthed my shortboard in the car all morning while I pandered in class, starving for big waves. Just then a van pulled in next to me and 3 foresters from Big Sur jumped out. They were stoked. "Look at this!" one exclaimed. Thrilled to see ANY waves that were surf-able, they suited up and hungrily ran for lonely 1st peak, where no one was bothering to ride.

Inspired by their fresh perspective, I shot out of a driver's seat full of bagel crumbs and suited up, and it was WAY more fun out there than it looked from the cliffs. The discovery today: longboarding has helped my shortboarding. So many people rigidly separate these two styles in the surf world, but learning how to manage a longer board this past week has been a crash-course on how to handle the art of wave-riding in general: where to stand on the board and when, how to use balance and weight distribution to squeeze the most out of a ride, etc. I happened to get up today and plant my feet in a new position on the short board: the back foot at 45 degrees rather than 90, and on the middle to right(ish) side of the deck; the front foot pointed forward and spread just lateral of the midline. Stable. Natural. And virtually the same as the Taiji single-whip stance in the form I'm learning. Despite what was happening on the wave, I just couldn't get thrown. I had all the timing and control I needed. I spotted the swell bulging and stretching, and knew it would practically break on top of me with a new pocket, just as another 2nd peak-er wiped off the same swell at the end of his own good ride. He hooted an affirmative as I dropped in. A couple other guys to my right were howling as I cruised that bulging wave shoulder, turned some, shot into whitewater and bent low to skim through it, and let myself be propelled forward after the wave closed out behind me. For the surf out there, it was an epic ride for me. I couldn't even wollop or give a victory cry myself: my soul was singing so loudly then and my focus burning right through the water.

Paddling back out, I studied more carefully the footing of the great waveriders out there (I had a dangerously close front-row seat, probably too close to the wave faces), and their stance was similar to what I'd just discovered: back foot angled 45 degrees, which offers a solid plant for stability & maneuverability. "Sounds like you found the sweet spot on that board," John said later when I told him about this at school. The psychology geek in me finds breakthroughs and the ability to do something new a mysterious unfolding. How did this development happen? Am I emulating & modeling the good surfers on the water unconsciously? (If so, that's the last time I complain about there being "too many good surfers" on the water while I learn what I can).

I've struggled with form in surfing for a while now. Another surfer friend recently pointed out that since I don't skate or snowboard, and I'm only 2 1/2 months into it, I don't have a lot of transferrable skills, other than swimming and yoga (+ being bipedal for 30 years). Today it all just happened before I could over-think it. After struggling forever to get a stance down, and worrying solely on drop-ins for such a long time (I kept tanking my nose as it got sucked under the wave), several things met together for the first time: reading the wave, positioning at the soon-to-emerge pocket, laying on my board just right, popping up just as I caught it, footing, avoiding other surfers, etc.

Aikido training had similar experiences. I was sent into my first forward roll by an instructor during a demonstration of shomenuchi-tenkan (a common beginner move). I came at her with a chop, then followed the force of the movement as she grabbed my arm and pulled me down into her center of gravity. I discovered something new: my body assimilated separate trainings into a synthesis of single expression, based on a response to what was there in the moment. I'll never forget the feeling of that roll. I didn't have time to premeditate it- it just happened. Same with today: instead of sparring with an Aikido instructor, I played with the personality of the wave and related to it- integrating these new, separate abilities into one seamless expression.

The Russian Psychologist Lev Vygotsky found that problem solving in young children is accelerated by about four years beyond their development when slightly aided by an adult as opposed to doing it alone. I think a related transfer of ability happens in art and sport as well, as we've all seen how proximity to the more adept can encourage growth at a rapid rate- even if for a short period of "peak experience." Vygotsky originally studied this with adults assisting children, but there is a universality here into peer relationships: actors and musicians can "bring each other up," just as teammates or competitors can do the same. Vygotsky called this the "Zone of Proximal Development," or Zoped (or ZPD). I'm guessing Zoped applies more generally as well: whether one is teaching or learning meditation, yoga, dance, somatics, weightlifting- you name it. Our peers and teachers can transmit their embodiment -and even abilities- by simply being around us. If we are consciously aware of this process, it probably accelerates our growth even more.

My friend Sundance said something the other day, as we talked about new abilities in surfing: "Ah, dude, when you do it once, you'll do it every time after that." Since the answer I give myself to every surf question or pondering is "get back out there and surf more," in that case I can't wait to do it again.

Geek Rap

2008-09-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

Here are two videos worth watching; I just couldn't resist posting them. The first is a new youtube video commissioned by NASA that tossed me into contemplating space and our place in it (that has to be my favorite state of mind!). Astro-rap, baby! Math rock- eat your heart out.

"Art shouldn't just be a rear-view mirror, it should have a headlight out there- pointing to where we need to go." -Barack Obama on hip-hop

We Are Under the Snow-Blankets

2008-09-25T00:02:00.000-07:00

We were children
with that one big eye of
wonder, gazing at the tiny
sparks of light in snowflakes,
as they fell everywhere.
A simple trip around town
shown with magic and awe.
A challenging day
could be revived by our
mere mutual frictions;
that gentle, deep sinking
into golden rock and red,
sun-filled sediments, as
the ashes share their charred
joy with crisp Colorado night.
There is no other heart, but
ours, there. It is still living
in that window of the
past. I still dream it in the
now, and bear the magic of
it as I smile among the
confused, the lost, and the
dismembered. As I put it all together,
there is no other place to return.

Sport & the Surf of Zen

2008-09-20T12:33:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading an interview with 8-time world champion surfer Kelly Slater on Sufline. Only two months since my first surf outing, I make it a point to spend more time in the water than I do reading or even talking about it, but even so I'm finding valuable insights from masters within the surf world:

[excerpt from sufline.com interview]
In 2001, before rejoining the tour, you said, "I guess I want to really enjoy being on the world tour this time... It was tough to enjoy myself when I was trying so hard to win." Have you enjoyed yourself more this time around?

In the time I took off the tour I learned a lot of things, and probably the biggest one was just being present in the moment. I spent a lot of time worrying about the future, thinking about things in the past, just personal things for me to get through, my own life challenges. When I started to really be present in the moment, then my life became all about the journey I was on and where I was at, as opposed to trying to obtain something. That allowed me to enjoy so much more of my time on tour, the people I was around, my life.
[end excerpt]

I love Slater's outlook here. He is now in the middle of a ridiculous ride of winning after winning this year -after dominating surf competitions since the 1990's- and he describes it as feeling easy right now; relaxed. Does his attitude and bearing on being present tie into this? I'd venture to say it does.

The slogan for the personal training school I attended was: "The only competition- is you." I always loved that phrase. This is the only way I can truly relate to surfing. I learn what I can from my friends and other surfers, always, but any attitude of a divided competitiveness leads me out of relationship and into dualistic isolation. For me, it's just as Slater says in this interview. His attitude of immediate awareness is what surfing is about for me. If you're not there, you're missing out on worlds of detail, feeling, and information that literally live and swirl everywhere around you: from the marine life you're swimming with, to the intelligence transmitted by other surfers, to the play of light on the glassy surface as you're propelled forward and riding a mysterious, glorious force. Acting creatively with what is there, right then, is what is most immediate- and most intimate. This is exactly why judges seem to like Slater over other surfers: no matter what wave he is on -and it could be far less than "ideal"- it's what he does with what is given; how he pulls it off regardless of the conditions, that sets him above other surfers.

I remember scouting towards Malibu on my way out of Santa Monica a few weeks ago, assessing a surf spot with my road-trip buddy. The waves looked sloppy and short. After a good 10 minutes, we confirmed how we weren't sold on getting wet. Just then, we see this guy tearing it up like a short-boarder on this tiny little slop of beach-break: floaters, turns- all kinds of fun. "Look what he's riding," Noah said. I looked. My jaw dropped. This guy was standing on a boogie board! It struck me then: sometimes it's about the wave, but it's really not about the wave. It's not even about the board, in the grand scheme. Just when you think it's terrible out there, and have an attitude against it, you see someone do something amazing with what is there. It's about you, and how you relate. That's life.

Our common definition of "sport' usually involves a casual past-time that includes competitiveness, rules, flash, and can even have a mocking connotation (such as "making sport" of something). Like other activities that we slap this word onto, surfing can be engaged as sport, but only at a surface level. Even some of the most competitive surfers seem to hold something deeper in their perspective, possessing a rare level of self-knowledge and stability of physical presence. How they may or may not transfer this knowledge or the feelings of connection they encounter on the water into the rest of their lives is up to them. But -in my experience- any activity that offers a path into the self and actually through the self is a kind of "way" or path rather than simply a past-time or game.

Surfing for me -like anything else in life- offers opportunities for presence everywhere: a gateway into awe & ignition of determination to blaze my own path. Body and mind can become synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. One is literally catching and riding the kinetic energy of the water, and joining with its meta-electrical charge. In a relative sense, you can't witness the physical act of surfing unless you are a creature with a body that is there, moving with the sea. This reminds me of what it is like to fall in love: out of all the living beings we can be present with in our lives, there is someone in particular we find, and love the way their presence lives in their being with us. This touches us, and changes us, just as the the ocean does.

While a sport can be defined and judged, a way is unqualifiable. Surfing, in my beginner's impression, personifies this difference.

2008-05-16T22:01:00.000-07:00

A collage of musical proliferations, astronomical callings, poetic gymnastics, intuitive inquiries, fears, cultural confusions, confessions, and yogic head-stands.

A name is an invocation for what it signifies. Protean Muse literally wrote itself one day as I sat in my home with tall brick windows facing Colorado mountains; visioning at an old wooden table with a notebook and cup of tea.

Protean (adjective): 1. readily assuming different forms or characters; extremely variable. 2. changeable in shape or form, as an amoeba. 3. (of an actor or actress) versatile; able to play many kinds of roles. 4. (initial capital letter) of, pertaining to, or suggestive of Proteus. [1598, from Gk. Proteus, sea god (son of Oceanus and Tethys) who could change his form; his name is lit. "first," from protos "first."]

Muse (noun): 1. Classical Mythology. a. any number of sister goddesses, originally given as Aoede (song), Melete (meditation), and Mneme (memory), but latterly and more commonly as the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne who presided over various arts: Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (lyric poetry), Euterpe (music), Melpomene (tragedy), Polyhymnia (religious music), Terpsichore (dance), Thalia (comedy), and urania (astronomy; identified by the Romans with the Camenae. b. any goddess presiding over a particular art. 2. the goddess or the power regarded as inspiring a poet, artist, thinker, or the like. 3. the genius powers characteristic of a poet.

Muse (verb): 1. to think or meditate in silence, as on some subject. 2. Archaic. To gaze meditatively or wonderingly. 3. to meditate on. 4. to comment thoughtfully or ruminate upon. [Origin: 1300-50; ME musen to mutter, gaze meditatively on, be astonished]