Monday, January 25, 2016

HEART STRINGS AND GUILT - DYNAMIC HARMONY

WHO AM I?
    When children played with wooden toys, one of my favorites was the spinning top. A top is wound with a piece of string and then tossed so that when the top lands on the sharp end, it is spinning because the string is pulled.
    The dynamic center of a top is a point at the top of the top (or apex) where the centrifugal forces of spin appear to be most concentrated – they come from the center, outwards. If we are the central point – the actor – then this situation is like a Lawn Sprinkler. We think about output, coverage. Keeping the spin of the top going, not falling over, what we have to put into our system.  This is GOAL ORIENTED.
 



     







But, life as we live it is not only what we do (output), it requires input – receiving and processing centripetal factors which come from outside us – from the periphery. The behaviors of others, the circumstances, of situations, our resources of health or wealth, the weather, etc. – lots of things are factors that come into play in our lives which we must process.  Our thinking, feelings and intentions (willing). A lot.
 











WHY AM I HERE?
     We receive more from the outside than we are able to generate from the inside. We are inspired in order to do things on the outside.
     These flows are built into our physiology as well. Our hearts operate on systole and diastole. We take blood in and blood is drawn out by our bodies. We breathe in (inhale) and breathe out (exhale).
  Our hearts sense what our bodies need. And our hearts sense feelings of one another. These feelings flow into and out of us all the time. We give to one another what we sense the other desires and we sense one another adjust to each other. It is this drawing in of senses that sets up our response.
     We start spinning because our heart strings are wound tight and we start to spin when the dynamics of lover or situation brings a response from us, and we spins, voluntarily or not.  

WHAT DO I WANT?
We are not free within physiological systems. We die if our hearts do not beat. These are closed systems. They are self-directed. But, our consciousness and our love, is based on an open system. We can choose to spin, or not.
     What we a human beings have over closed systems is consciousness.
     Dynamic Harmony means being conscious of the situation and choosing whether or not to be spun by our heart strings, guilt, passions or other forces. With consciousness comes freedom. And, with freedom comes isolation and loneliness. So, between relationship and isolation, between open systems we can change and closed systems we cannot, we live. This is paradox. This is love – loose and tight.

© Copyright 2016, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved
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Saturday, January 16, 2016

PAST PRESENT FUTURE – THINGS ARE TENSE

WHO AM I?
When I step up to the mirror, I can see who I am. I think, or presume, I know who I am. I ought to know who I am, right? That image is I a reflection of my past. The grey hair. The scars. The furrows on the face. The beady dark eyes. The crooked teeth. Except for the teeth, I earned each of those dings. They’re marks on my soul calendar. My ugly mug is not the present or the future. Can’t see the future in a mirror. The “present” is, at my age, not on the trajectory toward growth. Maybe a rejuvenation cycle, and it’s not overly active for growth. Maintenance? Naw. Declining these days.
     So, who we are when we’re livin’ the dream is a sum of our past. Our default action-set is based on past experiences. We default to what we know we’re gonna do. We are fixed. Okay, I am fixed. I live in habits. The sum of what felt good. What worked. The expedient. The proven. Click, bang. Social psychological research shows that we – okay I - am twice as likely to choose something familiar when I take a risk – even when I know that the result will be a losing proposition – “better the Devil you know than...” We work from the sphere of “effect”, we don’t work from the sphere of “cause”.
     I live now in the past tense. What’s up with that? How could you be so stupid, Jean-o? Destined to repeat mistakes because it’s easier? As the Great WC Fields used to sneer, “Never give a sucker an even break or smarten up a chump!” This is why Fields never carried much cash. He worked vaudeville theaters throughout the country and always deposited his earnings in a local bank under a newly created, outrageous assumed name. They gave him receipts which he carefully burned so no thief could steal his money. Did he write things down? Heck no. Did he remember? No. But, he felt real good about this clever solution to his fear of being robbed. And, he thought, he’d come back some day and they’re remember him –after all, he was a celebrity! Right?
     Past successes. Celebrity status. Big fish in a little pond. The past is quicker. Impulsively losing (again) is much easier than making the effort to think, plan and decide to do something else. Even on insignificant things like breakfast cereal, why do you buy that cereal? Think that’s connected to your diabetes? Effort. Who’s got time for effort? Not somebody as important as me! I’ve got things to do. I’m busy. Easier. No decisions. We feel comfortable with our comfy house-slipper decisions. Even if we’ve wound up in jail. Or sleeping in a cardboard box. Even at the bottom, the very bottom of the bottom, the power of the known, the familiar, the predictable is huge. The past tense makes us less emotionally tense.
So, I simply look at what is going on around me and project from the experiences I’m comfortable with onto the situation and act as if that is that old event, even if this newly unfolding experience is actually totally different. Or I see something, anything, that looks familiar, and that non-conscious cue is a trigger to an old memory and I flee the present with wings on my feet. Neat, huh? I do this because I am lazy. Change is hard. If you change, then I gotta change. So, I exert my unconscious authority and act without thinking and respond to “the way it is”. And, am I gonna doubt me? No way! It’s the rules.
     That’s when things get really tense. Most of these kind of decisions are wrong.

WHY AM I HERE?
At least we should be able to move into the present, right? But, to do that means not basing decisions on the whole mass of past results we have carefully gathered. Is living in the present even at all possible? Are we are wearing our past like a suit of body-armor – to protect us?
     Not at all. You can step out of the body-armor into the present. You get there through creativity – creating something which has never been created before. A painting. A smile. A cake. A friendship. A kiss on the cheek of a child. A visit to a person who is ill. Something you’ve never done before is a creation. Creations only happen in the present. Small or large, they are the new. Never done before. Never exactly ever done again.
     Once you are in the present, where will you go? Now that you have stopped aging, because the present only exists in this moment, it is age-free living.

WHAT DO I WANT?
Time is a funny place. There is time when you look back – memory. But, when you look forward, what do you see? A non-specific potential. An expectation of something that might happen.  Plans. Hopes. Wishes.  Have you ever traveled into the soul realm of Wishes?
     It’s somewhere near the Neighborhood of Fear.
Man in the Mirror
I'm gonna make a change
For once in my life
It's gonna feel real good
Gonna make a difference
Gonna make it right

As I, turn up the collar on
My favorite winter coat
This wind is blowing my mind
I see the kids in the streets
With not enough to eat
Who am I to be blind?
Pretending not to see their needs

A summer disregard, a broken bottle top
And a one man soul
They follow each other on the wind ya' know
'Cause they got nowhere to go
That's why I want you to know

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you want to make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change


*PMA – Positive Mental Attitude
When I was a practitioner of PMA* I used to say, “Everyday in every way I’m getting better and better!”

© Copyright 2016, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved
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Friday, January 15, 2016

KISS YOUR YET UNBORN GRAND-BABIES

WHO AM I?
     Today’s waves in my life have been made in the depths and the heights, both unseen. They both move the waters, and the waters move me. Here are the forces:
     The emancipatory and the imprisoning. The evolutionary and the revolutionary. The participatory and the isolating. The violent and the peaceful. The Platonic love and the erotic.
The disruptive, destabilizing and the foundational launch-pads of my future. The cosmic from above and the tectonic from below.
     These make the cultural and personal winds and weather that blow me about today – they shape my future. They blow from behind and ahead. They make my life easy and a struggle.

WHAT DO I WANT?
     I want to kiss my yet unborn grand-babies. So, I want the tools to harness the cosmic and the tectonic, to be able to predict the weather, understand the currents, manage the doldrums, to know when volcanoes will erupt and how to surf the crest of the tidal waves.
     We all want to be worthy of the challenges in our lives. But, who is it that prepares us for the unseen in our lives? Who knows the unfathomable in our hearts? Where do I get forces for myself? What is new for me is old for you. Who plans our lives BEYOND their term? Who leaves MY legacy?

WHY AM I HERE?
     I am here to stretch your time window. To encourage you to see into generations. To see today as only a step in the path trod by yourself as you are today. But, the path is much bigger than you think.  It actually leads back to your long dead great-grandmothers and their long dead great-grandmothers and further. It leads forward to your yet unborn great-grandchildren and their yet unborn great-grandchildren and further.
     If the path is so much longer, you and I will need to be stronger than we are today, much stronger.
     We will need to fish deeply in our depths for the deep running, gigantic parts of ourselves which we fear. We need the power of the unseen leviathans we have thought were only nice literary devices. I have lived my life hoping never to meet this fierce, wild part of your myself and pretending it is not there.  You?
     I have been satisfied with the small steps on today’s path, but to kiss my great-grandbabies, I need Time and Strength to withstand the forces from the cosmos and the tectonic. Shall we fish for that part of ourselves which can feed generations or kill us? Have we that kind of courage?
     To find it we need our Captain – the one who plans our lives beyond their term, and our destiny. The Captain stands ready to take us in hunt for ourselves.
     So, let’s pull our big girl (or boy) panties up, climb into the chair, strap ourselves in. Let’s grab the stout rod the Captain hands us, watch them bait up the hook as big as our hand. The Captain knows where to troll – over the currents which confront us, into the wind which buffets us.
Stalk yourself.

© Copyright 2016 Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved


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GIRLS-GIRLS-GIRLS

WHO AM I?
My name is Jean, French for John. I was born and raised in San Antonio, Texas. In Texas, J-e-a-n is a girl’s name, and G-e-n-e is a boy’s name. This fact was frequently pointed out to me by boys who added a little raised eyebrow and a smirk. I usually responded by saying that Jean is French for John but that I got the name because my mother was Swedish. Mostly the boys who said the Gene/Jean bit were not the brightest bulbs in the string, so the Swedish quip stopped things. Fact was, my mother’s maiden name was Johnson and I have five second-cousins named John Johnson. My parents liked the name John but things got confusing at family reunions so they did not want to add another John to the gene pool. (badada-badada-boom)
     I was an only child. My friends were boys and girls. I played some with girls, but girls weren’t really into pocket knives, frogs, football or fishing, except for Grace Ann. That was okay. Grace Ann wanted to play Beauty Parlor. O-kay, how’d you do that? She put lipstick my Teddy then I took scissors and gave him a “Flattop”, shaved his head down to the fabric. He never forgave me and always had this button-eyed stare.
I have always called girls, girls. It was the 4th grade Sex Hygiene class where the joke: “Hi Jean. Get it?” spontaneously arose along side knock-knocked-up jokes about sex. When I got home my mom told me I was adopted. My mother was afraid the hygiene course would raise questions about the specifics of knock-knock so she told me the standard 1950’s adoptees story: young girl, alone, knocked-knocked up, who thought the nice couple, mom and dad, who really wanted me, who chose me, would be best for me. I think my eyes looked like Teddy’s.
Hygiene class put the term female into my vocabulary. “Female” is scientific. I already knew about female black bass, deer, rabbits and other animals. But, to me, “girl” is a feeling word. I didn’t much use the term “female” unless it was some sort of scientific reference – and I usually wasn’t relating to my friend girls scientifically. We were friends and evolving quickly to “Snowball Dances” and Spin The Bottle.
When I was in college, I was adopted again - this time by a dorm floor of freshmen girls. I went with them to 3.2% beer halls as their designated “date”. That way they could dance and if a boy wanted to hit on them, and they didn’t want to participate, they’d point over to the table where I sat with their friends and say, “I’m with him!” I saw many a guy look over at me, size me up, shake his head and turn away disbelieving that somebody as scrawny and big-eared as I am could be with a table full of pretty girls. Yeah. It was unbelievable. But, hey! Apparently I’m a good listener.

WHY AM I HERE?
All my life I have had girls, girls, girls! Lucky me, right? In college, I worked for girls who ran campus publications. I made extra cash as a “Party Pics” photographer and shot “candid” photos at dozens of sorority parties. (And, they were indeed candid.) After college, I worked with girls all my life. I was even Administrative Director of a non-profit where the entire staff, except for myself, were girls.
     Many times I would go into the office and the Female Energy was very intense, almost palpable – was palpable. Notice how I sued the scientific word “female”? Female-to-female static energy seemed different than in a mixed social situation. Cut that feeling with a knife palpable. These feelings which were almost smelly. The girls had their noses lifted slightly. Their eyes narrowed. Their smiles snarl-like. I mean, I would go into the main office and it was like entering a bumper-car repelling force-field. All shields were up! Everything was defensive. Cat-like arched backs with hair sticking straight out. But, just my entering, allowed somebody to discharge the energy on me. The old static electricity deal.
     So the charged person would come to my office and proceed to unload the negative charges. I could tell in the first 30-second whether or not I was personally at risk by being alone with her and ought to call in a witness, and that depended on the subject. Sparks would fly, of course. I could not help with girl-vs-girl stuff other than listen. But that seemed to help. Never take sides, you will be shocked. Employee – job - employer things were what I was listening for.
The worse was the single-mom, goofy-ex, angry kids, life is too much melt-downs. These gals had to melt somewhere. Usually they were key players and I depended on them for their good work. So, I’d listen until they got it back together. Sympathize. Encourage. And out they’d go back to the Girls Ranch. There is this boy / girl “thang” as we say in Texas. Sometimes just having an “opposite” is all that’s needed. I really did no more than be there.

WHAT DO I WANT?
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve sensed that I’m now offending some of the girls I know because I’m not calling them “women”. Some apparently feel that since they’ve been through the cultural shift of the Women’s Movement, and they’ve put up with so-o-o much, pitched out crappy husbands and so forth; they’re matured, they have earned the rank and title of “woman” and that my calling them “girl” is somehow demeaning.
     “Woman” seems too scientific. “Hey, woman! How’re you doin’?” I’m not talking to my mom, she was a woman, I’m talking to you. I want and try to relate to you, the girls in my life, on a human-to-human basis, in a feeling way - not feeling as in “touchy-feely” way, but with genuine, heart-felt sincerity – person-to-person. Feelings are different from emotions. To feel someone is to sense them not just with the intellect. Emotions are scientific.
     So, to all my friend girls, I don’t care how old you have become, I will always be looking to relate to the girl in you who you are beneath that mature exterior. That girl inside is the one who has always been you. So, if Jean with the girls name, calling you girl angers you a little, I have a suggestion which I ran across at a group of girls.
     Two summers ago I visited a “Sisters On The Fly” gathering at a trailer park in Colorado. There were maybe a hundred fly fishing gals from around the country who had gathered to fish, knit, cook and lie; who were showing the public their collection of antique, small camping trailers. On the side of one trailer was a carved sign which read: “Pull Up Your Big Girl Panties And Deal With It!”
     I say this with a smile, a wink and a glance over my shoulder to see which one of you is gonna whack me on the back of the head! After all, I know you girls too well! I'm sure I'll at least get static.

© Copyright 2016, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved

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Tuesday, January 12, 2016

GOOD READS REVIEW - "Energizing", "Masterfully Crafted"


 Mark Krausman
Mark Krausman's review 

Jul 04, 15
5 of 5 stars
bookshelves: favorites
Read from June 22 to July 03, 2015

Th3 Simple Questions - Slice Open Everyday Life by Mr. Jean W. Yeager. Honestly I have been in a slump for awhile when it comes to reading books until I got my hands on this one... let's just say this amazing book found me and I am ecstatic that it did. The style of short essays or "slices" each with the "Who am I", "Why am I here", and "What do I want", format took me by surprise as it was an energizing way to read and process thought provoking concepts with each "slice" only being a few pages long and the analogies were artfully presented as real life experiences that most anyone can relate to.
My favorite slice was Dandelion Wine: Alchemical Batting Practice as I fully immersed myself into this "slice" with my own imagery which I could completely relate to as it left me with the warmth of sunshine still in my mind. All of the "slices" were masterfully crafted without needing page after page of extra words to get the author's intended thought provoking points across.
Mr. Jean - Willie Mays would have been impressed as you hit this one "out of the park" worth reading more than once...... 5 Stars
Many Thanks :=}
Mark Krausman
7/4/15 2:35am




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Sunday, January 3, 2016

KATABASIS - CONSCIOUS OF OUR FALL



WHO AM I?

Deserts are dead lies where only those creatures who have adapted to living in lies amid the dead and dying, can exist. And, the deserts are growing. Just go to California. Florida. Nevada. Mexico. Iraq. Saudi Arabia. Dubai. Afghanistan. Sand Land.

      Wherever the sand is flowing the lies are blowing and attacking everything that lives beyond the Sand Land. Lies like dust, billow around the Earth. The Sand Land know this and have coped with clouds of dust and blowing sand forever. Deserts are made up of lifeless lies that are blown into waving furrows and then blown again and rearranged forever into patterns that mesmerize and move across the Earth.

     Send more troops, many more troops! Bomb them and bomb the rubble. The smoke and ash of burning villages and trucks and bodies swirls with the dust and whips the aroma of burning gasoline, the smell of TNT and burnt flesh up, up into a plume that whirls around us.

     A road of ash undulates like a snake, black soot shading tan sand on the top edge of furrows and is moved by the hot breath of an evil wind which sometimes whispers and sometimes moans and sometimes groans.



WHY AM I HERE?

We are on the Ash Road of our Century. We are driving each other down an Ash Road because of Truths and the ash of dead Truths are lies of Power, Greed and Fear. Living Truths cannot be killed, and do not die, and cannot die. The lies billow across the world leave dust in our mouths, an acrid taste and bitterness.

     People of our time, young men and women walk the Ash Road through the deserts of our Century in order to experience this flattened space in the life of the world. They return to their lives the experience of the worldwide wind which no one controls; the shattering concussions of blasts from combatants; and the sights and smells of death and destruction which will cloud their dream-visions like the fine dust which coats the windows making it forever impossible to look through their eyes without looking through the memory.



WHAT DO I WANT?

We must be conscious of our fall. Our lowering. The Katabasis.

     Houses built on shifting sand cannot stand. Politics built on gerrymandered allegiances have no Democracy. We say a lot about killer terrorists and refugees but say nothing about Afghani heroin. Which kills more?

     When our way of life falls because we are following Ash roads to Sand Lands and economically tethered to blind Euro-Kings who put their eyes out so that they don’t have to see the Truth. Will the Greek Chorus will run from the wings shouting “Kata basis!”?

     Our companies are encouraged, even rewarded, to drive down an Ash Road deep into the Sand Land of Mexico. Where is Pancho Villa to rebel against Yankee domination?  Will a Narco Welcome Wagon bring brown Mexican heroin comes up the East Coast? Will the white dust made down south wind up in our gringo mouths?

The Western drought eases for an instant but the insatiable thirst of cities is on the growing, unsustainable edge of sand.  Sand is flowing and lies are blowing.

     When the only jobs left behind are low paying or toxic will we FINALLY become Job? After we fall all the way down, we must now suffer. We must sit quietly in the sand and in the ashes and scrape off our sores and wait for the Living Truth. It will come.      
     It always does.


© Copyright 2016, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved

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