Jun 2, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries

With apologies to M.K. Gandhi (for the format), I humbly state this (something Mr. Bartleby would agree with, though not in so many words):

First, they notice you.
Then, they respect you.
Then, they woo you with an offer you cannot refuse.
Then, you lose.

Refuse to comply if it insults your intelligence and your aesthetic and moral sense.

~ Dreamer of Dreams

Tags: do not sell your soul, I would prefer not to, non-compliance

Jun 2, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries

Melted Meanderings from the World of Coagulated Cheesy Corn
©By Vijaya Sundaram
June 2nd 2013.

Heat melts my brain into lumps of cheese.  (I want to find some nachos.)

Yes, I’ll spread the cheese on the nachos, bake them into delicious, coagulated, gross, fatty lumps of congealed food, and snack on them.

Yum.  Yum.  Crunch.  Ouch!  My brain hurts.

I hold up a tortilla chip and observe it.  Paper-thin and brittle, it reminds me of the skin I’ll have when I’m old.  How delicious!  I could be autophagous!

Translucent in the afternoon heat, the chip shimmers before me, an illusion, wrapped in a veil of corn-like deceit.

Who knows whether it’s GM-corn from Monsanto?

I’ll just snack.  My brains on chips taste good.  Oh, so good.

The heat washes over my pliant limbs, and I laze, like a sodden, sleepy slab of cheese on a concrete step waiting to be trodden on.

Disillusion washes over me, a veil being lifted, revealing another veil waiting to be lifted.  Perhaps, good things lie in wait behind that veil.

Hail, O! Being behind the veil!  Are you me?  Can you see?  Do we kneel to each other?

Behold, you!  I kneel to me!

Now’s when we keel over.

An idle wind (which I respect not) passeth by me.  I leap on it, and fly, a tortilla chip covered in cheese.  A tornado lies over the horizon.

Ride into that storm. 

The smallest things win.

From corn-chip to computer-chip is but a step.  GM-corn to nano-chip.  Nice!  And so crunchy, man!  So flavorful!  So full of silicon-dioxide!

Day at the beach, don’t you know?  That’s what’s called for. 

Because, as we know, the answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.  Dust-storms, sand storms, silicon chips, silly corn chips.

Good evening!  Have a nice day!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: chips, corn, Meanderings, melted cheese, melting brains, silicon chips, stream of silly consciousness

May 29, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries

I did not write anything for the past five or so days (if you count today, Wednesday, May 29th).

I felt like I was committing a grave sin.  I missed it so much.

And yet, I could not — I had a lot of grading, a lot of housework, some family obligations, and just plain sleep to make up.  I know, I know!  Excuses, excuses!

Still, I really could not do that.  I feel as if I have I’ve been away from my beloved (writing, I mean!), and the separation might continue fitfully until the end of the school year, which cannot come soon enough for me.  I want to be more disciplined in my writing habits, set up a proper schedule, do my music practice again, sing again, take long walks again, hang out with my husband and child for more extended periods of time without feeling I have to do something else which requires my attention, and be an entirely new person, fresh and dewy-eyed and ready to slay metaphorical dragons.

So, I shall return soon, I promise!  This is the longest I have been away from my blog.  I hate it!

I am suffering from major withdrawal symptoms.

See you soon!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ciao for now! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: angst, enforced separation, Writing withdrawal symptoms

May 18, 2013 Awake in Dream Time - Journal Entries about the almost real, the surreal and the unreal, Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries

The Lure
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 18th, 2013

How simple it is to abandon all!  How attractive an option!  Drop one’s bags, walk away, never look back, never return — this image has always haunted me.

The lure of the unknown, and the seduction of a future without any strings, without any knowledge of anyone new one would meet, without any expectations beyond what tomorrow would bring, whispers in my blood — and I want to follow that Sirenic voice.

This must be what makes a few people turn to into vagabonds and gypsies.

I’ll never be one, alas.  I like my security too much, and am too attached to my loved ones.

That, however, does not stop me from dreaming.  I dream of not being afraid.  I dream of walking, walking, with a stick holding a bundle over my shoulder, a guitar slung over my back (strings attached), a flute tucked into a waistband (one needs some air to breathe music into), a bottle to hold water, and a bowl to eat and drink from, one big book (Oscar Wilde’s complete works?  Shakespeare?), pens and note-paper, hairbrush and toothbrush in a shoulder-bag, walking towards a hill, because, surely, there must be another town I’ve never seen beyond that hill. 

But wait … even those few things I’d be carrying would be things I’ll be needing.  Ah well, one must make a few concessions to being human!

Death always awaits, however.  Perhaps, there I’ll find what I seek.

The unknown always awaits, looking over its shoulder, half-turned to face me, an arm raised, one finger beckoning, a whisper floating on the breeze towards me, but just beyond comprehensibility.

Hang on … I’ll get there eventually, my friend!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: #Death, attachment, gypsy, Siren, the unknown, vagabond, wanderer, wondering

May 14, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Current Affairs / General Interest

Fiddling?  Or Eating Bread in Circuses?
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 14th, 2013

The planet is burning, and Emperor Nero is fiddling away. 

Bees are dying off, and the company that was doing important work studying and protecting bees was bought by the company which made the very products which probably contributed to CCD (Colony Collapse Disorder).  Whole species of animals and birds are dying off.  Monsanto is today’s Satan, along with all the politicians who support it. 

Meanwhile, on another plane, war-mongers and manufacturers of weapons rule the world and promote more war to line their bank accounts.  Drone aircraft destroy villages, and no one person can feel guilty, because, after all, those are drones, and the people being killed aren’t white people from the Western world! Now, drones are being developed for domestic surveillance — it will be the beginning of a far worse global Big Brother which will be far more insidious than 1984.

And then, in the sphere of daily life, in all the developed countries, people drive gas-guzzlers.  Alternative modes of travel are not happening quickly enough, and the rich travel here and there on private jets with impunity.  Nobody really thinks it shameful.  Nobody calls anyone out on anything.  It wouldn’t be polite, don’t you know!

Forests are being cut down, the deserts and arid lands are advancing, and the wilderness is NOT paradise anymore. Floods do damage in some places, while drought takes care of the rest in others.

The planet is collapsing.

And we continue to shop, go to school, buy electronics, eat plenty, waste food and water, and watch movies.  I do some of the above, too (except that I use older versions of computers and am probably one of the few people I know with an old flip-up cell phone, something which I avoided buying for years, anyway).  I don’t indulge in some of the fancier technological devices used by the people all around me — but who knows?  I soon might, tempted by the lure of their easy availability.  No, I won’t.  I shudder at the thought of adding more misery to the lives of those who toil away in places like China, or have to deal with the consequences of coltan-mining in the Congo).

Perhaps, for those of us consuming away in our frenetic fashion, it’s too frightening to look reality in the eye.  Perhaps reality is really one of those monster flame-creatures that J.K. Rowling conjured up in “Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows.”  What’s it called?  Ah yes, Fiendfyre.

And so, we fiddle, while being burned up, along with the rest of those in power who set all this in motion in the first place.

Or perhaps, we are not the fiddlers, after all.  The fiddlers are the makers of all those things we consume.   Who are we, then?

We are the frightened populace who nervously eat the bread we are thrown in the circuses where we sit, maddened by fear and hunger, while watching some of the worse-off among us be killed off.  After all, many of us don’t have economic power, and lack the wherewithal to assume power, so we take whatever handouts that those who DO have the power toss our way. 

The problem is:  We might be lion-fodder next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Bread and Circuses, Climate Change, Collapsing Planet, coltan-mining in the Congo, Emperor Nero, Fiddling While Rome Burns, Fiendfyre, Harry Potter reference

May 13, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Teaching and Learning

Being Professional
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 13th, 2013

Teaching young people can sometimes be rewarding.

Seriously.

The only downside is:  We have to always present our best selves to our students. 

Moodiness is a no-no.  Not good. 

In no profession is the need to present “the face” more present than in the teaching profession.  It’s called “being professional.” 

It’s important.  Leave your own, personal feelings and sensitivities at the door.  Don’t indulge in sarcasm (it’s hard to resist at times, though, especially when one knows one is being manipulated).  Take everything, but everything, at face value, EVEN if it’s a question or a response that is absolutely, blindingly, clearly the result of a calculated attempt by a student to derail and sabotage a class.

Treat that student’s random question as if it’s a matter of absolute interest.  And it is, if you look at it closely, and examine its true motive.  Carefully answer the question posed as if in earnest, but answer the question behind the question.  That is, if you have the time.

Alas, one doesn’t always have the time to do all that.  One succeeds being a perfect person only for the first few months.  After that, one becomes short and curt in one’s responses.  Then, after hearing the curt response, one becomes overcome with remorse within, and swears to not be laconic or ironic.  One has to remind oneself that these are, after all, tender souls, innocent (!) young humans who need nurturing.  One resets oneself to be tender-hearted all over again, only to have some hoodlum in disguise try to tear down one’s lesson, or demolish a feeling of community in the classroom.  That’s okay.  Perhaps, it’s the student’s cry for attention of some sort.  All one needs to do is have a swift, uncompromising consequence — which, doesn’t always happen, because the flow of students is seemingly endless during the day.  Then, later on, one follows up.  Sometimes, that works.

If only that cry for attention by a student were directed in a positive way — as in, responding to a book or a topic being discussed, or general observations about a teaching unit, or about the human condition in general!  Then, one could engage, discuss, have a true dialogue. 

Alas, sometimes, that doesn’t happen.  But then again, it does, at other times.  One mustn’t give up hope.

For sometimes, a student just might remember that she or he was truly difficult, or unresponsive in class, or obnoxious, and apologize years later.  (That has been known to happen, and it’s lovely to have this reminder that one must have faith in the good sense of one’s students.)

Through all this, the teacher does not ever give up, even if, at times, said teacher might get overwhelmed and upset, s/he being human, after all.

For this is what a teacher has to do:  The teacher gets up every morning, girds up his or her loins, and goes into the forefront of something that could either be a joint endeavor, (like people in a submarine that is plumbing the depths in search of who-kn0ws-what), or a battle of wits.  Of course, it should never be a battle, but some like it so.  And some students want it to be so. 

And then, the teacher teaches several hours a day, and grades papers for an equal or greater number of hours.  The teacher is expected to be totally in control of the flow of schedules and information regarding extraneous matters not really related to teaching.  The teacher attends meetings, and shows up to everything dutifully.  The teacher volunteers to take on things unrelated to the actual job, because, well, it’s fun!  The teacher has to always say, “Things are great!” when asked how things are going, because … well, at some level, things are great (even if one might feel cynical on the day-to-day level, the level of bone-deep exhaustion).

All this aside, the teacher must go in every day to work, and love, love, love the subject, and by extension those whom she or he teaches. 

Sleeping three or four hours every night (whether she or he does it willfully, because of some sort of self-destructive urge, or because of school-work, is irrelevant), waking up at an ungodly hour every morning, cudgeling her brain into wakefulness by the repeated application of trimethylxanthine in its liquid, lactic-tinged form, and smiling a warm welcome to all the equally weary children who pour like sluggish streams of molasses, the teacher stands, prepared, poised and punctual.

That is called “being professional.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: #Teaching, Being Professional, school-teacher's musings, Students, teachers, vocation and avocation, What it takes to be a teacher

May 12, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning

Meditations on Greatness and Ordinariness
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 12, 2013

I’ve often wondered why people can exist in a kind of dumbstruck awe of those who have achieved greatness in a particular field.

I do not mean to imply that I don’t respect great people or am not in awe of their gifts, tenacity and devotion to their field.  I do not mean that I find them puny or insignificant.  Not at all!  I admire them deeply, intensely, with great respect and open eyes and heart.  I appreciate enormously the sacrifices they must have made and the strength of mind to keep at their art or science or any other field.  I look at them, and see their greatness as part of the power which pours from an unseen source into their hearts, into their minds, the minds of those who are compelled to follow a dream.  I love that, and wouldn’t mind some of that to spill over into me as well.

What I don’t understand is the slightly subservient attitude that is adopted by those who pay them tribute — or, maybe I mean something other than subservient.  I’m referring to the slightly timid manner which people adopt in the face of greatness.  I find it strange and slightly discomfiting.

Perhaps, I’m thinking that the possibility of greatness is in all those who seek passion and purpose in their own lives, along with tenacity and vision.  And I am wondering why tenacity and vision,  which should be everyday things, things of no great consequence, could be so extraordinary.

I know why — because they are extraordinary. 

But they shouldn’t be!

I don’t wish to slavishly idolize those who possess creative greatness and heroic tenacity.  I want to appreciate them with eyes wide open, and with a  readiness to let them take me elsewhere, without giving up an iota of my own being.  Surrender to greatness, without surrender of self.

Is that possible?

Therein lies the paradox of the attraction and repulsion that “great” people hold for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(NOTE:  I’ll probably write a longer meditation on this.  This is all I am capable of for now — work awaits.)

Tags: #musing, greatness, Greatness and Ordinariness, surrender of ego, surrender of self, surrender to greatness

May 8, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking

Ten Things I Wish For Everyone
©By Vijaya Sundaram
May 8th, 2013

• To be genuinely pleased when someone has a success in his or her life, and is thrilled to share it unabashedly.
• To take pleasure, simple pleasure, in the beauty and goodness that are created by others.
• To not feel inadequate or wanting because they cannot, at this point, have what another person has.
• To not begrudge even one tiny little bit the beauty created by someone, which that person created from scratch with pleasure and no expectation.
• To not look askance when someone expresses genuine emotion or passion.
• To not compare themselves with others, even if it’s the habit of a lifetime.
• To not beat themselves up internally for not doing their best.
• To not beat themselves up for begrudging someone his or her success.
• To not beat themselves up for feeling bad about feeling bad.
• To feel alive to the very tips of their fingers and toes, and the top of their heads, and to welcome all that is beautiful and loving into their hearts.

With love,

Dreamer of Dreams

Tags: Being Accepting, Being Alive, being human, Being Loving, Celebrating Beauty, Ten Things I Wish For Everyone

May 7, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Reading, Writing, Thinking, Teaching and Learning

Ruminations
(Not too earth-shattering or terribly original, but what I thought of today)
©Vijaya Sundaram
May 7th, 2013

It seems so obvious, somehow, when one puts it baldly, thus: One has to have a meaning, a purpose in life.  If there isn’t one, find one.  If we cannot find one, look elsewhere.  If we still cannot find one, create it. That’s it. 

If the meaning and purpose come from a place of emptiness, then one’s actions are empty at best, and harmful at worst.  That’s where we get the Dzhokhars and the Tamerlans.  That’s where we get empty men with hungry souls emptying their weapons into innocent and hapless people.  Adrift without meaning and purpose, the empty ones fill their emptiness with rage, religion and false notions of honor.  Killing is the ultimate worst expression of that emptiness.

If we act with mixed motives, our lives will crumble, and we will create confusion in the lives of those around us.  No one will benefit in the end, and all of us will be unhappy.  I did all this for them, how come they don’t appreciate what I do? is the question that haunt those who act with mixed motives.  Or: I don’t mind sacrificing my needs for others.  Really!  Confusion and anger come from these, and ultimately, disappointment and bitterness. 

If our motives are clear and obvious, and we are not working only for our own benefit, but for the benefit for all, our lives will be the richer.  As a great soul once purportedly said, “What you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me.”  Interconnectedness is everything in the web of our lives.  Self-expression and service to others work only if both come from a place of joy and love.  Clarity is the result.

If we work with purpose and true motivation, and we are doing it from interest and a willingness to learn, and a willingness to be vulnerable to failure, our lives will be the richer, and so will the lives of those around us.

If we act from moral strength and purpose, and our actions are real and obvious extensions of our intentions, and there is no self-aggrandizement detectable in our actions, our lives will reflect that.  And inexplicably, others’ lives will be affected — positively.

Meaning and purpose germinate in such grounds as these. 

It is the job of teachers and parents, and of the policy-makers to help create a world with meaning and purpose.  If, instead, we create a generation devoid of true self-hood, but made up of selfishness instead, we are committing societal suicide.

Create meaning.  Help and hold each other as we cross the treacherous terrain of existence.  It’s in the reaching out and the holding that we find the poetry of living, the art in life.

Ultimately, a true artist or poet does art or writes poetry for its own sake,  because it’s beautiful and because it makes her or him happy.  Artists or poets don’t look for rewards or recognition (although they wouldn’t refuse it if it came their way).  They bring others pleasure, but they do it unintentionally.  They come from a place of truth.

Make your life a work of art.  Make poetry.  Make truth.  Make love happen.  Make the act of living, both for yourself and for others, a beautiful thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: #Clarity, #Life, #Love, #Poetry, #Truth, Art, Beauty, honor, interconnectedness, meaning, self-expression, self-hood vs. selfishness, service, Teaching the young

Apr 28, 2013 Awake in Real Time: Coffee-induced Meditations and Journal Entries, Essays on Music and Musicians

Thinking about Summer at the Start of Spring

Some song-musings by Vijaya Sundaram

April 28th, 2013

Just thought it was time for Aaron Neville.  I love his light handling of Summertime.

Mahalia Jackson has always moved me deeply with her voice and her feeling.  The first time I heard her was after my French teacher in college recommended that I listen to her.   She had heard me singing on stage for the college, seemed pleased, and gave me a cassette tape with these two songs (Summertime and Motherless Child) on it.  I understood why when I heard both.  Years later, when I was singing in the subway at Downtown Crossing in Boston, an African-American woman came up to me, dropped a couple of dollars, smiled at me and said, “Sister, you should be singin’ the blues.”

I was quite honored.

One of my all-time favorite singers is, of course, Billie Holiday.  Here’s how she sings Summertime.

Another singer of the angelic host is Ella Fitzgerald.  Here’s her version of Summertime.

I could scarcely believe my ears when I heard Janice Joplin sing Summertime.  Hope you enjoy this rendition!  (Definitely a departure from the beautiful, lulling tones of Ella, but compelling nonetheless!)

And finally, here’s the sublime Sam Cooke singing Summertime.

Did you guess I like the song?  🙂

I’ll be back with other favorites.

Goodnight, sweet dreams and hope this summer will not be too scorching.

Love,

Dreamer of Dreams

Tags: #Summertime, Aaron Neville, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Janis Joplin, Mahalia Jackson, Sam Cooke