darren_stranger | Entries tagged with thoughts

.
For the last official day of my holidays, today i went up to the lookout on Mount Dandenong. In 20 years of living in Melbourne i'd never been there, and only thought of it when i noticed it in the Melways. I took the 694 bus from Belgrave station, which climbed up winding roads flanked by forest and tree-fern lined gullies, passed through several of the little townships up there and finally drove right into the lookout grounds. Foolishly, i'd expected it to just be a roadside lookout of some sort, not a big modern tourist centre, so it took me a bit by surprise. It was still pleasant though, with the view out over the city, terraces and balconies, gardens with little bridges over running brooks, and gum trees and kookaburras around. Even the touristy bits helped give me a taste of that 'on holiday' headspace, so it was okay. I spent a couple of hours up there, wandered around for a bit, read a little, then caught the bus back down to Belgrave (only on the way out noticing a signpost for some forest walking trails, which was something i'd been thinking of doing).

Ironically, while i was sitting up there reading a chapter of my book about living in the moment, not missing now while planning the next thing, i realised that's exactly what i was doing right then, trying to decide whether to catch the 12.30 bus or wait for the 1.30, whether i should stop off somewhere else and and whether that would give me time to sit and relax at Earthly Pleasures before i had to head home etc. All the while i'd been up there i was thinking about when i would leave. I also realised why i've felt so hassled and rushed on those days i've actually gotten out to do stuff, in that i've tried to cram too much into a few hours and ended up clock watching the whole time, always aware of how long it is before i have to be somewhere else (not to mention grasping at moments, trying too hard to relax and enjoy it before rushing off to the next thing). I realised it's worth remembering not to try to do too much, to maybe just do one thing on a given day and to allow myself time to just be there. To not know what time it is for a bit. Great to know, now that the holidays are at an end.

And when i did visit the cafe, i discovered another good lesson on the pitfalls of trying to recreate a good moment from the past, even one two days old. Doors to Narnia and all that.

The other thing i noticed was that i spend far too much of my time writing livejournal entries about things in my head, experiencing the moment as a future reminiscence instead of living it then and there, so i think i'll make a point to not write such 'today i did this' type posts in future, so that i won't be tempted to compose them ahead of time (hey, it's not like i ever read back on them, is it?). In fact, the real reason i'm posting this at all is to make a note of that thought, so as not to forget it.

And on that note, i'll leave the rest of the day's wanderings (and yesterday's city excursion) untold.

On the weekend i dropped in to the Buddhist centre in Box Hill to put our name down for a meditation class next month. It's on a Saturday afternoon (clashes with tkd, but i can miss a few classes) and was unusually affordable at $33 for the six week course. I was pleasantly surprised that Elaine wanted to do it too.

I also had some reservations about it - while i'm interested in Buddhism, i'm not sure it's the path i'm looking for in life, and becoming involved with a Buddhist group even on this level seems like taking a conscious step in that direction. I also don't know whether it will be anything more involved than what i've been learning from books and the internet and doing at home, or even what kind of meditation it will involve (could be Pureland Amituo chanting for all i know), Perhaps the main thing, if i think about it, is that it's a Chinese Buddhist centre and i don't know if everybody else is going to be Chinese and we'll feel out of place as the only gwailo newbies.

When i thought about it, though, i realised i was being silly. I'm always lamenting the lack of new experience in life, forever shuffling between work, taekwondo and home, not meeting new people and doing new things. If i want to meet and interact with different people (not to mention that romantic notion of trying to be of help to others as well), i have to be out there in the world to do it, not sitting at home reading books.

I really do think i need to make a conscious effort to put myself out there in the world, to choose to say 'yes' to doing different things when the opportunity presents, especially where it involves interacting with new people. Even if something does turn out awkward or disappointing, that's still living life, isn't it?

--

Another thought came to mind as well after that visit. After i'd dropped in to the centre to register for the classes, i walked back to Box Hill station to head off to taekwondo. In the mall, the local youth group was doing a lion dance, together with people from that same Buddhist centre collecting money for the bushfire victims. It was a nice sense of community spirit, and reflected something that i'd read in the book i bought from them on my first visit, to the effect of becoming part of a community leading to more ability to do good deeds. As i thought about it later, i realised how important a sense of community can be in lending a helping hand. Where i was feeling helpless in that first week after the bushfires, not knowing what to do other than send money, i know that a lot of the other people who were running around collecting goods and donations for the relief effort were doing so in co-operation with groups of friends. Looking back on it makes me realise just how important those sorts of social networks are for feeling empowered and useful. Perhaps that's the key - if you really want to make a difference, you can't do it on your own. Something else to think about anyway.

One of the drawbacks with not being religious, in terms of specific belief in a personal, sentient devine being, is the lack of opportunity for prayer.

Quite a few times lately i've thought that simple ideas like "i'll remember you in my prayers" were quite appealing, as was the basic idea of giving worship and devotion to something holy and pure, and it came up again when Craig had his cancer diagnosis and everyone was asked to pray for him.

For me, while i have some sort of inclination towards the idea of something mystical or divine behind the universe, the sort of human-like, partial entity that would desire worship or answer prayers never quite rings true to my imagination. So the questions remains - how do you pray if you don't know who to pray to?

There's alway meditation, including this* form for someone in tough times, but it's not quite the same thing. I guess you could always just do it, addressed To Whom It May Concern, as it were (as i did with Craig) but does it even count if you don't really have the notion that there's someone listening?

I can see why the belief in a personal, sentient god has such appeal, but while liking the idea is one thing, just up and deciding to genuinely believe in it is a different matter.

---------------------------

( * text under cut for future reference )

I've realised something that i do, whenever i find something exciting, inspiring or enjoyable:

I grasp at it, trying to hold on to that mood or inspiration for as long as i can. I try to read things in keeping with it, watch videos or listen to music that fit the mood, make screen savers of images on my computer at work, anything to capture and continue the feeling.

I obsess over the idea until it becomes stale and worn out then try to keep it going past its use-by date. Other things that might capture my imagination and create new moods i resist, in trying to hold on to the moment that's passed.

I think this is another area where i need to learn not to be so attached, to embrace things that move me without becoming totally absorbed in them, enjoy them as they rise and fall, then let go as they pass and embrace the next moment, partake in the things that interest me instead of being defined by one.

Again, another one of these Buddhist ideas makes sense of something close to home.

Last week my brother-in-law was rushed to hospital with what turned out to be a large cancerous tumour, which they removed right away, but found had spread to other areas. In the end the prognosis was that his chances are quite good, but for a while things were looking pretty grim. In the 24 hours that it took to get a proper answer from the doctors (after a brief "you've got cancer, it's spread, fill you in later"), he'd made his will, told his friends and family and was pretty much resigned to the fact he was dying.

While i was worried about what he and his family were going through and what was going to happen to them, my thoughts also kept coming back to that other question: What if it was me? What if i was told i was dying? How would i feel, what regrets would i have, and what would matter to me aside from those i'd be leaving behind? One thing really came home to me: All the things that i occupy so much of my mind and time with, my likes and dislikes, the things i like to do, read, wear or look at, so much of what i think of as 'me' really wouldn't matter, as all of that would in the end be taken away and gone. There's a lot said about the things you can't take with you, in terms of material wealth and possessions, but i realised that it also applies to things you do as well as the things you have. Things you do for yourself, the things you enjoy and experiences you have accumulated - when you die you lose all that. It occurred to me that the only thing you won't lose is what you've given out into the world, as you've already given it away. All the rest - that's just wallpaper to make this life pleasant while you're living in it, but it's not what counts. I've had similar ideas before, but this brought it home to me in a way that was much more real and immediate. (And yes, this is what i most want to change in my own life).

I guess this is why some philosophers and religious people say you should always be mindful of the fact that you could die any day - not because of what could happen in the next life, but to put into perspective what really matters in this one.

So, cliche or not, there's something to think about: If you were told tomorrow that you were dying, what would really matter to you?

Current Mood: philosophological

How do you know what you want to do with your life?

Current Mood: seeking
Current Music: Jimi Hendrix - Purple Haze

Just an interesting thing i noticed this morning, that's probably worth remembering, and ties in to the 'silence is golden' post i wrote the other week.

This morning i was doing my t'ai chi form in the little park. My mind was wandering all over the place and i was making mistakes. At one time i went from thinking about the mistake i had just made, to the need to stop thinking about other things and concentrate on what i'm doing, to the need to be able to not think while doing poomsae so as not to make mistakes, to how that might apply to a self defence situation, to Xena, Warrior Princess (via "act, don't react"), to things i'd been reading on LiveJournal. In the midst of all that, i did a move that seemed to flow really well and brought my mind back to what i was supposed to be doing. As soon as i stopped all the chatter in my mind, i noticed the trees in front of me suddenly come sharply into focus and had a few moments of crystal clarity before my mind raced away again with a thousand distracted thoughts (starting with writing this post in my head). So the moment was lost, but i figure it's worth remembering as something to aim to recapture in the future.

Like any skill, i'm sure it's something that will get better with practise.

Current Mood: monkey on red cordial

On the ABC's movie show last week (and again last night), they had a story on a documentary film about a silent order of monks in some remote monastery. There was an interview with the film's maker, who lived there with the monks for some time while making the film, and he was discussing how the lack of conversation really opened up the other senses, making the quality of the light, sounds, objects etc really vivid, as if all of creation were speaking to you. It made me think about how, even in moments of apparent quiet, my mind is constantly chattering away with imagined conversations, lj posts or stories, often re-hashing word for word things i've gone over many times before. I've also noticed before that when i'm immersed in this sort of internal monologue, i don't notice things around me as much, walking around lost in my own thoughts.

It occured to me that, as much as enjoy chewing over these words and thoughts, i could probably do with some times of mental stillness as well, just to sit back and let the world speak to me.

Current Mood: monkey

This is just to make note of a thought that's come up this weekend, that i want to remember and think more on. Not a great revelation, but something i should be mindful of.

As we were walking around Croydon yesterday, something reminded me about a pattern i've noticed lately - that i'm becoming a real snob when it comes to the people around me. I know that for a few years the political climate of this country has left me with certain disdain for my fellow Australian and the mean-spirited values that seem to dominate our culture, but i'm realising there's also a real arrogance in there, a part of me that really does think i'm better than other people. Moving out to the burbs seems to have heightened it somehow, with the greater sense of difference and not fitting in, but it's more than just an underlying fear of getting bashed for looking like a "poofter" that it's coming from. It also whiffs of the exact "better than you" attitude that would inspire that sort of violent resentment in the first place.

Then today, as i was meditating by the train line after a good two hour poomsae session, i heard a couple of guys in the back yard behind me, talking about gardening in ocker accents, and it reminded me of yesterday's thought. At the time i was looking for a "seed thought" to use in the meditation, and this struck me as a perfect choice - to focus on thoughts of kindness and understanding toward other people, particularly those i might have animosity or fear toward (much in the vein of the Buddhist idea of 'Compassion Meditation'). I decided that getting over this sort of snobbery is something i really need to work on, and would be a really good thing to add to the areas of self-improvement i keep talking about. Perhaps including this in meditation is one way to help me internalise this better attitude.

Somehow, i have to be able to keep my own identity without being the 'pine-haired turd' of TISM's Fosters Carpark Blues.

I think i've finally come to understand the old saying that "charity begins at home".

In the past, i've always dismissed that as a convenient catch-cry for people to excuse being entirely uncharitable and selfishly cunty, which is generally how it's used, but it's just dawned on me that it can also have a truer, more positive meaning as well.

Put simply, if you want to get better at putting others first and doing things to help people, putting an idea like "only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile" into practice, then what better place to start than by applying that to those close to you, learning to put them first and consider their needs ahead of your own from time to time?

Of course, that needs to be just the start of the process, before getting better at looking out for other people in general. As the oft-cited addendum to that maxim says: "..but it shouldn't end there".

via p_cat:

I'd like to adopt Father Bob Macguire's Christmas message: "Do no harm and do a bit of good".

http://www.theage.com.au/news/in-depth/families-not-funds/2006/12/23/1166290790500.html

"We better get down and dirty," he says. "If you really want to make a change in the world you have to put in."

Current Mood: melancholy

Following a link from zey's journal to Andrew Bartlett's blog, i came across this quote about Don Chipp:

Chipp had strong, though not always accurate, opinions to the end. He thought Mark Latham was a certainty in 2004 because he couldn’t believe the people would re-elect a prime minister who’d gone to war on a lie. Chipp was a singular politician who belonged to neither left nor right. His guiding principle was English philosopher John Stuart Mill’s insistence that majority opinion should always be questioned.

But he admitted he’d got his promise to keep the bastards honest wrong by over-simplifying the problem and concentrating on the politicians. The real bastards were the millions who reacted to a problem with another beer and a hateful “She’ll be right, mate”; the shareholders who supported uranium mining because of the profits; the bankers who welcomed foreign takeovers because they were good for profits; the unions who encouraged forest destruction because it pleased their members; lawyers who opposed simplifying workers’ compensation because that would threaten their holiday homes. “These are the real bastards, and they are represented in Canberra with sickening fidelity by members of the Liberal, National and Labor parties,” he wrote soon after quitting politics.

Pretty much sums up my own thoughts on politics at the moment.

Current Mood: cynical and pessimistic
Current Music: Mach Pelican - Had To Be

Profile

darren_stranger

November 2014

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
						1
2	3	4	5	6	7	8
9	10	11	12	13	14	15
16	17	18	19	20	21	22
23	24	25	26	27	28	29
30

Syndicate

Style Credit

Base style: Modish by branchandroot
Theme: Greyscale by twtd

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Jul. 5th, 2025 08:07 pm

strange days

Entries tagged with thoughts

view finder

choose life

something to believe in

grasping

perspective

A question

Clarity

silence is golden

milk of magnesia

charity begins at home

good thoughts to spread

a nail, hit on the head..