Waking Up
Maybe it’s something to do with the thought that right now, at this moment, no matter which moment, Los Angeles is alive. How can I so frequently miss such a desert place? How has it weaseled its way into me? And what have I left there behind? It is so alive, so swarming with wakefulness. In every moment. And everything is something, everything which occurs in L.A., anything which one does, is something: driving home alone we are forced to encounter the past again and again; thinking of the future in such a predicament is only infuriating, impotent, helpless. What allowances to we make, what sacrifices, to make such a place truly livable?
It’s interesting the way two clashing cultures find reconciliation within a person, two different environs. Within a single person. Maybe that is how they live inside you, continually live, not because of the place, but because of the war and reconciliation your mind, your past, your ideas have had with it. Only once the major conflict has been resolved.
Adjusting to Italy has been surprisingly simple. Living in a home with less ease of distraction has made me increasingly mindful and appreciative of life. The culture here, its emphasis on tempered freedom, not by any laws or politics, but sheer respect, self respect and worldly respect. Not utopian, but it’s interesting to see a culture dealing so much better with the troubles which arise in communities of diverse thought, lifestyle and opinion.
I’m P/NCing the requisite Italian class. I think it has more to do with my GPA than anything else, since the class itself won’t be all that challenging; it’s more a safeguard to keep my usual mathematical systematical issues from nipping me in the bud again.
Also growing more excited about being on my own for an entire week. Looking at the hostels in Paris suddenly made the whole jaunt seem manageable, as though other people in the world actually do things like this.
Was thinking today about Ram Dass, and how he says those in the process of waking up look around and sometimes see others who have that sort of familiar look, fresh and open, and you know they are cutting through differently, upright. It’s strange to be and act for the most part as though I do not know or am not interested or curious about waking. Every day I must come home and sort of heal from the process, revert, which helps me to know I will not make much progress here… but I shouldn’t be completely stunted, either – getting Paola as a host mother, getting a single, those were definite gifts whose depth and importance I am only now beginning to understand.
It’s interesting the way two clashing cultures find reconciliation within a person, two different environs. Within a single person. Maybe that is how they live inside you, continually live, not because of the place, but because of the war and reconciliation your mind, your past, your ideas have had with it. Only once the major conflict has been resolved.
Adjusting to Italy has been surprisingly simple. Living in a home with less ease of distraction has made me increasingly mindful and appreciative of life. The culture here, its emphasis on tempered freedom, not by any laws or politics, but sheer respect, self respect and worldly respect. Not utopian, but it’s interesting to see a culture dealing so much better with the troubles which arise in communities of diverse thought, lifestyle and opinion.
I’m P/NCing the requisite Italian class. I think it has more to do with my GPA than anything else, since the class itself won’t be all that challenging; it’s more a safeguard to keep my usual mathematical systematical issues from nipping me in the bud again.
Also growing more excited about being on my own for an entire week. Looking at the hostels in Paris suddenly made the whole jaunt seem manageable, as though other people in the world actually do things like this.
Was thinking today about Ram Dass, and how he says those in the process of waking up look around and sometimes see others who have that sort of familiar look, fresh and open, and you know they are cutting through differently, upright. It’s strange to be and act for the most part as though I do not know or am not interested or curious about waking. Every day I must come home and sort of heal from the process, revert, which helps me to know I will not make much progress here… but I shouldn’t be completely stunted, either – getting Paola as a host mother, getting a single, those were definite gifts whose depth and importance I am only now beginning to understand.
posted by Ashley at 6:22 AM
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