Mist

It just looks so far away and you try to reach out and grab it but you can never do it, never do it.

And you want to squint and see if its that shadowy figure that you've waited half your life to see, but no, not as you sing "Sun King" in your head and try to pretend you are in a dream. There is no figment of your imagination, only the driveway of your neighbor.

Things like that don't happen around here, not ever. Not ever.
Misty sounds like the name of a pornstar. That kind of ruins the romance, doesn't it?

But yet we all hold mist in our hearts, letting it collect into droplets and drip down slowly, making our toes cold. Drip, drip, drip, drip.

I'm not saying romance is dead. It's only becoming heavy and dropping to the asphalt, in fat drops.

Connecting for Change

At a conference I went to in New Bedford, I listened to a man talk about opening numerous state-of-the-art centers for "giving poor people a chance". Though I would hesitate to group "poor people" into a singular category of mindset or circumstance, it is an inspirational idea to me to enhance the educational chances of humans, especially children, so that they may use the power of their minds to become happier and successful people, in whatever they deem happiness and success to be. Like the story of instead of giving a person a fish, to teach a person to fish. I think that is an idea of what to do in my life.

永訣の朝/ The Morning of the Final Farewell

 By Miyazawa Kenji

けふのうちに
とほくへいってしまふわたくしのいもうとよ
みぞれがふっておもてはへんにあかるいのだ
（あめゆじゅとてちてけんじゃ）
うすあかくいっさう陰惨〔いんさん〕な雲から
みぞれはびちょびちょふってくる
（あめゆじゅとてちてけんじゃ）
青い蓴菜〔じゅんさい〕のもやうのついた
これらふたつのかけた陶椀〔たうわん〕に
おまへがたべるあめゆきをとらうとして
わたくしはまがったてっぽうだまのやうに
このくらいみぞれのなかに飛びだした
　　　（あめゆじゅとてちてけんじゃ）
蒼鉛〔さうえん〕いろの暗い雲から
みぞれはびちょびちょ沈んでくる
ああとし子
死ぬといふいまごろになって
わたくしをいっしゃうあかるくするために
こんなさっぱりした雪のひとわんを
おまへはわたくしにたのんだのだ
ありがたうわたくしのけなげないもうとよ
わたくしもまっすぐにすすんでいくから
　　　（あめゆじゅとてちてけんじゃ）
はげしいはげしい熱やあえぎのあひだから
おまへはわたくしにたのんだのだ
　銀河や太陽、気圏などとよばれたせかいの
そらからおちた雪のさいごのひとわんを……
…ふたきれのみかげせきざいに
みぞれはさびしくたまってゐる
わたくしはそのうへにあぶなくたち
雪と水とのまっしろな二相系〔にさうけい〕をたもち
すきとほるつめたい雫にみちた
このつややかな松のえだから
わたくしのやさしいいもうとの
さいごのたべものをもらっていかう
わたしたちがいっしょにそだってきたあひだ
みなれたちゃわんのこの藍のもやうにも
もうけふおまへはわかれてしまふ
（Ora Orade Shitori egumo）
ほんたうにけふおまへはわかれてしまふ
あああのとざされた病室の
くらいびゃうぶやかやのなかに
やさしくあをじろく燃えてゐる
わたくしのけなげないもうとよ
この雪はどこをえらばうにも
あんまりどこもまっしろなのだ
あんなおそろしいみだれたそらから
このうつくしい雪がきたのだ
　　　（うまれでくるたて
　　　　こんどはこたにわりやのごとばかりで
　　　　くるしまなあよにうまれてくる)
おまへがたべるこのふたわんのゆきに
わたくしはいまこころからいのる
どうかこれが天上のアイスクリームになって
おまへとみんなとに聖い資糧をもたらすやうに
わたくしのすべてのさいはひをかけてねがふ

My little sister,
About to depart to a place far beyond before the day is out.
The sleet has fallen outside, and it's oddly bright.
(Give me some slush will you Kenj'ya.）
From the clouds of pale-red, that is all the more bleak,
The sleet comes a-dripping and a-drizzling down
(Give me some slush will you Kenj'ya.）
Gathering the sleet snow for you to nibble on,
Inside two chipped porcelain bowls with
The junsai plant painted blue,
I, like a stray bullet,
Darted out into the dark of the falling sleet.

(Give me some slush will you Kenj'ya.）
From the bismuth-colored dark clouds,
The sleet comes a-dripping and a-drizzling down.
Oh Toshiko,
At a time like this,
When you're on the brink of death,
You have asked me for a scoop-full of refreshing snow,
Thank you, my little sister, so giving and brave,
I too will continue ahead straight onward.
(Give me some slush will you Kenj'ya.）
In between the oh-so violent fevers and gasping,
You asked me to get
The last bowlful of snow, descended from the skies,
The realm of galaxies and suns and atmospheres...
.. Upon two quarry-blocks of granite,
where the sleet is lonesomely deposited,
I perched upon it precariously.
And from the glistening pine-boughs
Filled with cold transparent beads that maintain
The hoar-white, two-phase equilibrium betwixt snow and water,
I shall take away the last food for my little sister.
The indigo-colored patterns on the familiar bowls that
We grew up with,
You'll be parted from them too, after today.
(Ora Orade Shitori egumo [I'll just go off on my own I will])

It's true, you really are departing from us today,
Oh, within the enclosure of the patient's room,
On the other side of the dark folding-screen and mosquito nets,
You are burning away with pale blue light,
My little sister, so brave.
This snow is so awfully pure-white, wherever you might choose.
From those frightful, rolling skies,
This beautiful snow has come.
  (I'm gonna be born again, and
    next time, I'll make sure everything won't be so bad
      I hurt so much all the time.)

To those two bowlfuls of snow you're eating,
I will now pray, from my heart.
Oh may this snow now turn into a heavenly ice cream
Providing you and everyone holy sustenance.
This I pray with all the ability I can muster.

What are the ethics of homelessness?

It's not good to give hobos money. That's what we've been told, that is the protocol. I am supposed to feel guilty at losing $2 for giving a man some money he is inevitably going to spend on drugs and alcohol. But who am I to deny some of his lifetime if I refuse? He will just get that same money from someone else, and he will have the same exact outcome. This sounds like an argument against, but what if giving this money made you feel good? You have the illusion that you are helping someone in some small way and you think you are better because of it. Is this wrong, to think in this selfish way? What if I told you all charity you ever do is really to benefit yourself to make yourself feel good and worth something and busy? Could you deny it?

Natural n free

I went to Niagra falls yesterday and bathed in the waters as it came down, and I was so amazed by its awesomeness (used in the sense of awe-inspiring) and at how insignificant and tiny I am compared to the overwhelming supreme being which is nature. I realized long ago with disappointment that I have never really held a conversation with nature at all, for I have never been left alone with it for any longer than probably 10 minutes. Always another human, always another car burping by. I don't want to lose contact with it, because without nature what sort of reality would I really have? I can't help but think that my ethics and self would be somehow distorted, as if nature is what keeps me myself.

The Purity Myth

My problem with the idea of virginity has already been stated by many different people from many sources. Without getting too preachy, the reason why I don't agree with the idea that you can "give away" something when you have sex for the first time is because it gives too much value to a person's character and how they are percieved, it promotes sexism and also excludes any other sexuality other than heterosexuality. Even though this is already what I think, its fascinating to find in a book that I skimmed, The Purity Myth, that these ideas are backed up by history and modern politics. Both the history behind the tradition of a father walking down the aisle with the bride (handing the virgin off to another man's ownership), and the effects of federal laws on national sex education that don't necessarily prevent or ban untrue medical "facts" or made up statistics. I didn't particularly enjoy the book for all the immature sarcasm and generalizations of christians or conservatives it made, but I took away from it the idea that its always in ones best interest to be aware of why traditions or norms are the way they are: They could have some not-so-humble origins.

The Boston Skyline

I need no one to tell me how stupid Junior Harbor Cruise is. "Oh, pay 70 bucks for 3 hours of being stuck on a boat with people you hate? No thanks", is what they say. But if you go past the pretending to detest every single one of your classmates, there is something inheritely awesome about seeing them out of the usual context. Wait, these people are human?! Yes, yes they are and they can look pretty in their dresses and they can cluster in huddles with their bros to reinforce the fact that they belong somewhere, but that can't mask the fact that they all have complex lives that I know I will never know. Their memories, precious stories, the things that make them who they are, amazed me so in its potential overflowing capacity. But it was really when I looked at the Boston city skyline at night that it hit me with full force. I saw all the lights that were moving and blinking, and then I saw the hospital and the people shuffling inside under the fluorescent glare and I cried. I shed tears of shock. These people, shuffling about, didn't know that I was watching them and they would never know. I felt like a miniature god, watching all the interactions of thousands within the vision of my mind, the overwhelming intensity and enormity of every action, thought, murmur encapsulated in front of me.

My friend sent me the definition to this feeling:
Sonder.